


The Most Dangerous Game

by CallidoraMedea



Series: Hunger Games Prequel Collection [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 36th Hunger Games, Alliances, Arena (Hunger Games), Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, District 2 (Hunger Games), District 6 (Hunger Games), District 8 (Hunger Games), District 9 (Hunger Games), F/M, Hunger Games Tributes, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Major Character, Major Character Injury, Original Character(s), Original Male Characters - Freeform, POV Original Female Character, Pre-Hunger Games, Prequel, Protective Siblings, Romance, Teen Romance, The Capitol (Hunger Games), Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:29:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 67
Words: 110,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallidoraMedea/pseuds/CallidoraMedea
Summary: Dexsia has been trained her whole life in District 2 by a former victor; now that she's eighteen she has volunteered to go to the Capitol and compete in the 36th Hunger Games. In her way of victory is Dove, reaped alongside her brother from District 6; Terra, who must win to keep her beloved sister from the community home in District 8, and Catalina from District 9, who is one of the youngest tributes at age twelve.Against all odds, each tribute is determined to win; for themselves and for their families. As they navigate the ceremonies before the Games, each knows that 24 tributes enter the arena; only 1 emerges as a victor.And each tribute intends to be that victor.
Series: Hunger Games Prequel Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003500
Comments: 69
Kudos: 17





	1. Dexsia

** Dexsia Greentree **

“Again!”

Aulus holds his position as I adjust my grip on the sword. The sun beats hot on the top of my head; beads of sweat trickle down from my bangs. Then I heft the sword again, the sun glinting off the blade, and strike at Aulus with what I hope he sees as a killing blow.

No such luck; he parries it away easily and disarms me with a single move. The sword clatters on the stone and stops.

“Is that all you have in you, Greentree?” Aulus asks, smirking at me. I toss my head and my braid swings behind me.

“Certainly not Mr. Buteo. I thought I should take it easy on you today.”

“Ha! You’re just tired. Take a break. You’ve deserved it.”

“Running out of time, Aulus,” I remind him, picking my sword up from where it fell.

“You’re good, Greentree. I’m just better.”

“I should be. I’ve been training with you for what is it now? Ten years?”

“Next month you get to see if you’ve worked hard enough,” Aulus says, reaching for the sword. I hand it over to him. 

“I’ll be fine. You’ll see. I’ll win,” I tell Aulus. 

“You better. Or I’ll have wasted all this time for nothing. Get home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Aulus won the thirteenth Hunger Games years ago. Now he mentors the tributes from District 2 during the Games, and in the off season he trains a few students that will volunteer when they’re ready. This year I’m eighteen, and next month I’ll volunteer for the thirty-sixth Hunger Games. 

I wander down the street to my house, where I know my mother will be waiting for me. I’m her last kid at home now that my brother Gallus moved out with his new wife. I hate her, but what can I do? Gallus was never very good at anything weaponry, and it’s always been a sore spot that out of all the kids my year, Aulus Buteo picked me.

My mother opens the door as I reach it. The house smells of freshly baked bread; I close my eyes and savor the smell. Mother gives me a kiss on the forehead before I go in and slump in my seat by the stove.

“How was training, Dexsia?” she asks, turning the fresh loaves out of their pans and putting them on the cooling racks.  
“Good. I think I’m ready.”

“I thought you were ready two years ago,” Mother says, smiling.

“At sixteen? I was good then but I’m better now.”

“Think you can win?”

“Of course I can. Otherwise I wouldn’t even think of volunteering,” I tell her, lifting my bangs up to cool my forehead. My hair is way too long but my mother won’t let me cut it. Apparently it’s my best feature, but I don’t know about that. I don’t really care much about how I look. Not like Gallus- he’s the vainest boy I’ve ever seen. Always smoothing his hair back and grinning in the mirror. When he used to live here I teased him, but I don’t see him as much anymore.

“You’ll see, Mother. I’ll win and we will be rich, and I’ll be famous, just like Aulus. You’ll see!”

Mother leans over and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll see. I won’t be surprised at all when you win, Dexsia. You’ve worked too hard for this to lose.”

“When’s Father coming home?” I ask, changing the subject. She shrugs.

“Whenever he’s done all his work for the day. You know that.”

I lean back in the chair and tip it backwards. “I know, but I want to tell him about today! I think I almost defeated Aulus.” My father is a blacksmith and he never gets home on time. Ever.

“Well done, Dexsia! By the way, your brother is coming for supper,” she says, grabbing a pot from under the sink. I groan.

“And I suppose he’s bringing Lucretia, isn’t he?”

“I would think so, them being married and all.”

“Ugh, I hate her! She’s so irritating. And vain; all she does is look in the mirror. I see why Gallus married her.”

My mother turns to me and pushes the chair upright from where I was tilting it. “Not another word out of you about Lucretia. She’s a good girl and Gallus is lucky to have her. Now, you’re all grimy from training. Go wash up; your brother will be here soon.”

I get up complaining from the table, but I do as I am told. When I get out of the shower and head back into the kitchen, Gallus is already there with that Lucretia. She’s such an idiot I don’t know why anyone wants to be around her. Certainly I don’t.

“Why hello Dexsia! How are you?” she simpers at me, placing a strand of hair back into her carefully fixed hairstyle. I sit down across from her at our small table.

“I’m fine. Gallus, what’s the news?” I say, ignoring her.

“Training is going well,” Gallus says, taking his eyes off his wife long enough to look at me. “Goodness, Dexsia, don’t you put any effort into your appearance at all?”

“Yes, but not right now. How’s Peacekeeper training?”

“Top secret; I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

“Well you’re not very interesting, are you?”

“Dexsia!” my mother admonishes.

“Well, well, well, look at everyone here!” My father comes in through the door, and even though he’s covered in dirt from work, I still launch myself at him.

“Dexsia! You just got cleaned up!” Mother says, placing the pot she was holding down.

“Hello my girl. How was today?” Father says into my hair.

“Excellent! I almost defeated Aulus!” I say, grinning up at him. He smiles back down at me.

“Well done, daughter! I’m proud of you!” I smile even broader until my cheeks hurt.

Mother comes over then to give Father a kiss. “Supper is nearly ready; why don’t you wash up and join us?”

“I think I will. Hello Gallus, hello Lucretia,” he says, letting me go and walking back into the bedroom he shares with Mother. I have my own room, and Gallus had his own when he lived here, but now his is empty. I have no idea what we’ll put in there.

Father comes back out from washing his face and changing his clothes. My mother puts the rice bowls and the bread on the table. 

“Another beautiful meal made by Gratia Greentree,” Father says, acknowledging my mother. She smiles on the opposite end of the table from him. 

“Enjoy. I’m glad to have you here, Gallus. We see far too little of you,” she says, taking a slice of bread. One good thing about living here in District 2 is that we’re treated very well by the Capitol, and we never seem to want for anything. If I may say so myself, we are the favored district- and I’m glad we are! We’ve had more victors than any other district, and it is an honor to compete in the Games. Every time a tribute of ours wins, we get treated even better for a year, which is another incentive for me to volunteer and win.

“Well, Lucretia and I have an announcement,” Gallus says, taking Lucretia’s hand. She simpers at us and makes a sort of chuckling noise in her throat. Please say you’re leaving her, is all I think.

“Come the end of the year, you will have your first grandchild,” Gallus continues. Shocked silence, then my parents erupt in joy. Mother cries a little. Father slaps Gallus on the back, both of them beaming.

I’m unimpressed. A baby? Any baby of theirs will be more irritating than adorable. Plus I don’t really like babies. But I put a smile on my face and congratulate my brother, even though I don’t really care. It’s what I’m supposed to do, so I’ll do it.

It takes ages for the conversation to settle down; Mother keeps wiping her eyes with her napkin. But finally my father turns to me and asks, “So. The Games are a month away. Are you ready, Dexsia?”

“Are you really going to volunteer?” my brother says, his face furrowing into a disapproving frown. I nod.

“Of course I am. Why do you think I’ve been training with Aulus since I was eight?”

“It’s foolishness that will get yourself killed. If you can help it, don’t go into the arena. It’s not worth it,” Gallus says.

“It’s what I want to do. So I’m going to do it! I can’t let Aulus down now!”

“Aulus isn’t the one who could end up dead! Dexsia, I’ve been telling you for years that this is a bad idea. Why don’t you listen?”

“I don’t have to listen to you! You’re just my brother! Aulus won because he was the best, and now I am going to win because I am the best! I’ll be better than all the other tributes and I will come home to be rich and famous. What will you be when all this is over? Just another Peacekeeper with a stupid baby!”

“Dexsia!” Father and Mother say the same time. I know I’ve gone too far, but that was very satisfying to say.

“Dexsia, apologize to your brother!” Father says. I stand up from the table, sending my chair flying backwards.

“I have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Dexsia, go to your room. I don’t want to hear anything more from you today,” Mother says. I grab a piece of bread and stalk off down the hall, slamming my door so loudly they can probably hear it at city hall.

I don’t care what Gallus says. I don’t care what anyone says. I will volunteer, and I will win the Games, because I am the best girl with a sword that Aulus has seen in years.

I will be the victor.


	2. Dove

** Dove Rosestar **

"Move on, girl. Nothing for you to see." 

The Peacekeeper pushes me along roughly, and I stumble over the weathered stones on the street. Nothing to see? Nothing but the man they have just shot in the square. If they didn't want me to look, they wouldn't have done it where all of District 6 can see.

Cabel reaches back and grabs my hand, squeezing it for reassurance. Harsh penalties aren't rare here, but they never get easier to see.

"Come on. Let's get out of here," my brother says, and we push through the crowd of people that mill about the square. My friend Opal catches my eye, and we wave to each other before we lose sight of one another in the crowd.

District 6 is so large it takes ages to get anywhere. Factories and buildings jut up everywhere, and in between are the buildings where the people live, and the crowds of people themselves. I don't think I've ever seen an empty street as long as I've lived here.

Finally, Cabel gets us to the street where we live with my mother. A simple brick building connected to the others like it in the row; two bedrooms upstairs, one big room downstairs. Mum has one bedroom, Cabel the other, and I sleep in the room downstairs on the sofa.

It's just us three, my mother, brother, and I, since my father was killed four years ago by the Peacekeepers that keep order here in District 6. I don't know what he did; my family never talks about it. I miss my father every day, though, and the ache hasn't gone away in the four years since.

"Mum! We're home," Cabel calls into the house. He looks back down the street, looking for something, or someone.

"What are you-" I start to say, but Cabel shakes his head and pushes me into the house. He follows, shutting the door and bolting it.

"Who was it this time?" Mum asks grimly. I look from her to Cabel and see that both of them are solemn.

"Not with Dove here," my brother starts, but I grab his hand.

"Why not? I'm fourteen now; I'm not a child!"

He and my mother exchange glances full of meaning. She sighs.

"She's right Cabel. She isn't a child. Who was it?"

Cabel starts to pace back and forth, hands tight behind his back. "Ferrick Stone. I heard from Chrysan that he stole a weapon from a Peacekeeper. They shot him in the square."

"What did Ferrick think he was doing, pulling a stunt like that?" Mum asks, sitting down at the table. Her face is pale.

"There's unrest in the district, Mum," Cabel continues. "There's a group who's determined to overthrow the Capitol."

"That will never happen! One band of rebels against the whole of the Capitol? That's how the Dark Days happened, Cabel. And if you're even thinking of joining them- "

"It's a suicide mission for sure," Cabel says. "I want no part of it."

Mum relaxes a bit more. "And if I can avoid the reapings for just two more years, I'll be free to take care of you and Dove," says Cabel.

"You'll never be picked; District 6 is too big," I say. Cabel smiles.

"Yes, I suppose the odds are in my favor for that, aren't they? Now to keep you and me out of the Games, and then we are as safe as we can be."

"Just stay out of trouble, Cabel," Mum says, getting up. "No rebellions or plots."

"He would never!" I say. "He's too sensible to join in something like that."

"Don't you worry, Mum. I'll always be here to take care of you and Dove."

I trust that my brother will keep his word. Ever since my father died, he's been saying that he'll always watch out for me, and so far he has. I trust Cabel above anyone else in the world, even my mother.

The reapings are in a few weeks though, and that sends a wave of apprehension through me. Even though District 6 is large, there's always that chance, never mind how miniscule it is. Always that chance that the unthinkable could happen. What would I do without my brother?

At least with such a large district it will probably never happen.


	3. Terra

** Terra Coppersmith **

“Iry. Iry you have to get up; you’ll be late for school.” I shake my sister a little until she opens her eyes and smiles at me.

“Morning Terra.”

“Come on, we have to get going. We both have school, and don’t forget that this afternoon you have your first shift at the factory.”

“I know, I know,” Iry says, pushing the blankets off her and getting out of her bed by the window. There’s only two windows in our little house, which is more than a lot of houses in District 8. My father put the second window in when I was ten, and got the glass through a trade. I still can’t believe he’s gone.

Iry hands me her hairbrush; an old ragged thing that used to belong to our mother, years back. I gently comb her dark curls back into a braid down her back. I wrap a piece of twine around the end to tie it, and give her a gentle pat.

“All ready?” I ask her. She nods. “I can’t believe how big you’re getting!” I say, looking at my sister properly. I still think of her as a toddler in my head, but here she is, eight years old already.

“You’ll be taller than me soon,” I say and she giggles. “Okay, let’s go.”

I take a piece of the bread I made last night for my lunch, grab my satchel, and head out the door behind Iry, being sure to lock the door. Not that anyone would break in; we have nothing to steal.

Iry runs ahead of me down the street, waving to everyone she meets. I’m glad to see that she is clean, presentable, and mostly happy. I can’t risk losing her, not now. 

My mother died when she had Iry, so for years it was just Father, Iry, and me. He worked in one of the textile factories and I took care of things at home, after school and my own shifts at the factories. Almost six months ago now, there was an accident; I never was told what happened. But my father died.

Since then it’s just been Iry and me. I have to keep her looking well, and can’t let anyone know how much we’re struggling. If anyone did find out, they would take Iry away from me and put her in the community home. I can’t lose her, I just can’t. 

I leave Iry at her door for her classroom and go around to join my own class on the other side of the school. She waves goodbye then turns to her friends to chat. I smile to see her happy and carefree.

I’ll be done school in two years; then I can work full time and take care of Iry better. Since I’m only sixteen I can only work part time after school. With the money I make from that, it’s barely enough to get by. Once I’m eighteen, that’s when our luck will turn around. I’ve had to take tessera this year for the first time ever; my father never allowed it. And if I can help it, Iry will never have to. 

Those eight slips of paper in the reaping bowl make me nervous, though.

“Terra!” My best friend Deecey waves me over to her in the schoolyard. We’ve been friends for years, ever since we started school. We look so similar, with the same dark skin, dark eyes, and curly hair, that most everyone thinks we’re sisters at some point or another.

“How goes it?” she asks, leaning against the building.

“Busy as always,” I say. She’s the only one who knows the full story of Iry and me being alone. “Iry starts at the factory today.”

“How does that feel?”

“Well, I don’t have to really worry about her at home anymore while I’m at work. And we can walk home together. It’ll simplify things, I think.”

“My mother said to invite you over after work tonight for supper. You and Iry, of course.” 

“Oh, thanks!”

“I’ll join you after my shift; we should end at the same time, and then we can walk over to my house,” Deecey says, grinning. I nod and grin back.

Then the bell rings and we all go inside to learn about how District 8 helps the Capitol. Such dull stuff; I’d leave school now if they’ let me.

After school, Deecey and I walk with a bunch of other students, our age and older, to the factories where we work our four hour shifts. I can see Iry in a group of eight year olds, animatedly chatting about something. Deecey nudges my arm and points surreptitiously at one of the boys in the grade above us.

“You see him, Terra?”

“Tall boy? Yeah.”

“Know who he is?”

“No clue.”

“Fletcher Wellrock, and I’m going to marry him.”

I laugh a little under my breath. “Does he know?” I ask.

“Not yet, but he will soon!”

“Deecey!” I say, and we both laugh. “Invite me to your wedding if it happens.”

“When it happens, you mean. And you’ll be the first one I invite.”

“Come on, Mrs. Wellrock, we’re going to be late,” I tease, and we go into the textile factory.

Four hours later, I emerge into the quick approaching twilight, thoroughly exhausted. I watch for Iry and Deecey while I sit on a low rock wall; the first time I’ve been able to sit down since my shift started.

“Terra!” Iry comes running through the crowd of workers who are pouring out of the doors. Days done, time to go home.

“Are you ready to go?” she asks. She looks tired too.

“We’re going to Deecey’s for supper. How was your first shift?”

Iry’s face grows a bit more troubled. “It was okay. It’s really hard work, and some of the people aren’t very nice.”

“I’m sure they’ll get nicer as they get used to you. How could anyone not like you? Oh, here’s Deecey now,” I say, standing up. Deecey joins us, waving a hello to Iry. Then we all set off for her house.

I’ve always liked Deecey’s house; it’s warm and cozy compared to mine. Her mother is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met too; whenever I leave she gives me some food to take home. 

“Hello Terra, hello Iry,” she says, smiling at us. She works an earlier shift at the factory, I know. 

“Hello Mrs. Underfall,” I say, giving her a hug. She’s been like a mother to me all these years. To Iry too, even though in some ways I think of myself as Iry’s mother as well as her sister.

“How were your days?” Mrs. Underfall asks as we sit down at the table. Deecey stuffs some food in her mouth right away.

“Mine was fine,” she says, muffled through a full mouth.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mrs. Underfall says fondly. “How were yours, Terra and Iry?”

“I started at the factory today!” Iry says, getting some of her pep back. Mrs. Underfall smiles at her too.

“Terra?”

“Oh, the day was as usual,” I say, taking a bite. The rest of the meal progresses with kind words and engaging conversation. When night begins to fall, I stand up to go. It’s too dangerous to be wandering the streets after dark. Still, I’m always sad to leave Deecey’s house. Mrs. Underfall gives Iry and me hugs before we leave. 

“Take care,” she whispers, and lets us go.

The breeze is cold as I walk home, holding Iry’s hand in mine. The dark could be hiding anything, and it makes me nervous. As we walk in the silence, I can’t help but think about the reapings. Four weeks to go. It’ll be someone else, I know it. But those eight slips of paper still nag at me anyway.

Iry squeezes my hand, and I can feel her smile through the dark. “Everything’s fine, Terra,” she says, as though she can read my thoughts.

“Everything is fine. Don’t worry. We’ll be okay,” I say. I say it as much for my benefit as Iry’s.

We’ll be okay. We always have been. But I can’t help but worry.

Four weeks.

Eight slips.


	4. Catalina

** Catalina Nightwind **

_The woman pulls the girl’s name from the reaping bowl. She smiles down at us all, all of us holding our breaths. I pray it’s not Challah, pray that it’s not Lavender._  
And it’s not.  
It’s me. 

“Cat, Cat! Wake up! Wake up, Cat!”

I finally come to, crying out, and I sit up. “Cat, you were having an awful nightmare,” my sister Challah says, rubbing my arms. I burst into tears.

“I dreamt I was reaped,” I sob and curl into my sister’s arms.

Challah holds me tight and rocks me back and forth. “I remember; the first reaping is always the scariest. You’ll get used to it more when you’re my age,” she says. Challah is sixteen and I can’t remember her ever being scared by the reapings. 

“Cat, you’re only twelve. You’re in the pool once. The odds of them picking you are very slim.”

“They chose a twelve-year-old last year!” I say, looking up at her in the dark.

“Will you hush?” Lavender says sleepily from across the room. She shares that bed with my eldest sister, Edel. Lavender is seventeen and Edel is nineteen. I feel badly about waking them all up, since they have to be up early to go to work.

“Cat had a nightmare,” Challah says. She and I share the other bed in our tiny bedroom in District 9. She’s also my favorite sister.

“Well be quieter about it. Some of us are trying to sleep,” Lavender says grumpily, turning over.

“Think you’ll be okay?” Challah asks. I nod. “Okay then, goodnight. See you in the morning.”

Challah turns over and goes back to sleep, but I can’t. I’m too apprehensive. The reapings are in two days, if you count that today has already begun. Two days! And this is my first year being eligible, since I’m only twelve. I’m scared that I’ll get picked, or my sisters will get picked. Next year I don’t have to worry about Lavender, but there’s still Challah.

I’m still awake when the district alarm goes off, announcing the start of a new day. My sisters all get up around me, Challah patting me on the shoulder before she leaves the room.

“Good morning girls,” my mother says, putting out breakfast onto the table. My father comes in holding a pail of coal that must have come on the train. 

“Good morning,” I tell them both, sinking into my chair.

“Didn’t you sleep well, Catalina?” my mother asks, worried. “You have dark circles under your eyes.”

Challah comes in then and answers for me, “Cat had nightmares last night.”

“What about, honey?” Mother asks, stroking my hair.

“The reapings of course,” Edel says, coming in with her face freshly washed and her hair braided back. “Remember how terrified I was when I was twelve right before the reapings?”

“And nothing happened to you, or Lavender, or Challah. Catalina, you’ll be just fine,” my father says, putting that pail down by the stove.

I nod, but I still feel scared inside.

Challah walks me to school, because it’s only her and I who go now. Next year she’ll leave and go to work in the grain fields, like the rest of my family. District 9 is responsible for the grain production for Panem, after all. One day that will be my job too.

So, during the day while Challah and I are at school, my parents and sisters go to work and don’t come home until after dark. The Peacekeepers make everyone work until the last ray of daylight is gone. Therefore, it’s always Challah and me who get supper in the evenings.

“You’ll be fine, you know that, Cat? In two days it will be all over and we can just sit back and watch this year’s Hunger Games,” Challah says, moving pots around.

“I don’t want to watch the Games; they’re horrible!” I say, setting the table. Challah raises an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t let the Peacekeepers hear that comment, Cat.”

I can’t stop, though. “What if it’s someone I know? What if it’s one of you guys, and I can’t help you? What if it’s Grace or Mist or-“

“Cat, calm down,” Challah says, taking me by the shoulders and shaking me a little. “Odds are, it won’t be anyone you know, and we won’t make you watch the Games, alright? This is just how it is.”

“But why? Why does it have to be this way?”

Challah bites her lip and looks off into the distance. “You know about the Dark Days; they repeat the story every year.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard way too much about them.”

“That’s why we have the Games. The Capitol wants us to remember how terrible those days were. The Games are our reminder. I hate them too, but there’s nothing we can do about it but bear through them and wait for them to be over. You’ll be fine, Cat. Finish setting the table.”

I hear the finality in Challah’s voice, that the subject is closed, but I can’t help myself. I slowly set out the cutlery, taking way more care in it tonight than I ever have.

“But what if, Challah?” I ask softly.

“Catalina,” she says, exasperated. Then her head turns swiftly to the side, to the door. “They’re home. Quickly, pour the water and get me a bowl.”

I hear my family stomp up to the porch, and I let the subject of the Games drop for now. I don’t stop thinking about them though. Why shouldn’t they stop? Haven’t the districts learned their lessons? All through dinner I think about what’s coming.

Two days.


	5. A Volunteer

** Dexsia Greentree **

I wake up with the dawn on the most important day of my life. It’s here! The reaping day is here! I lie in bed waiting for everyone else to wake, while I tremble with excitement and nervousness. This is what I’ve been training my whole life for, this moment and the ones that will come after. What if I don’t get picked? What if someone else volunteers before me? There’re others that have been training with other victors besides Aulus. The only difference is that Aulus is the best of any of them.

Light comes in slowly, then quicker as the sun rises in the east, conveniently where my window faces. They’ll be up soon, my parents. The reaping isn’t until two o’clock, however. I have a long time to wait.

Finally I can bear it no longer and get up, smoothing my blankets out. If all goes to plan, I won’t be back here for several weeks. I want to come home to a neat room. I wonder if Gallus will come today, to watch the reaping. If he’ll bring Lucretia. I still don’t know how to feel about the baby. They’ve come a few times for dinner since they told us, but they’ve said no more about it. I won’t ask. I understand that for now, the topic is off limits.

My mother hears me moving around in my bedroom and opens my door, smiling. “Couldn’t sleep any longer?” she asks. I shake my head.

“I’m too excited,” I tell her. She comes and sits by me on my bed. Suddenly a wave of doubt and nervousness washes over me. “Do you think I can do it?” I ask her, leaning my head on her shoulder. Mother wraps her arm around me and squeezes me tight.

“Of course you can. Aulus has trained you well, and you can’t be any more ready than you are now. You’ll go and make us proud, Dexsia.” At her words I smile again and lean into her embrace. My mother. How I’ll miss her when I’m gone!

I hear my father getting up and moving around. Mother pulls her arm away from me. “I should get breakfast. I want you to have a bath this morning, then I’ll do your hair. Okay?” I nod.

“Okay.”

After a breakfast of toast and some fruit that Mother got at a good price in the market, I get in the shower and wash my hair. When I get out, Mother is waiting for me in the kitchen. Gently she combs out my hair, trims my bangs, and plaits it back into a long braid.

“Do you want it pinned up?” she asks me. I shake my head. 

“No, I like it hanging down.”

“Okay,” she says with a smile in her voice. Mother comes around in front of me to survey her handiwork. “You look lovely, Dexsia.” I grin at her. “What are you going to wear today?” she continues.

“My red dress,” I say, getting off the kitchen chair I’ve been sitting on.

“You’ll look beautiful. Why don’t you get dressed now? Gallus and Lucretia are going to come over for a while before we go to the reapings. We all want to spend as much time as we can with you before you head off to the Capitol.”

I make a face but hide it from my mother. She’s right. If I am going to the Capitol, I want to spend some time with my brother. No matter how distant we’ve become in the past years. When we were kids, we were really close, but since he moved out and gotten married, we’ve drifted apart. I pretend not to mind; I have too much on my mind to linger on my relationship with my brother. Still, I miss our childhood closeness.

I go back into my now sunlit room; my favorite room in the house. I put on my red dress that Mother bought me for my last birthday; it’s so beautiful with little shell-like buttons down the front and lace at the hem. I will look beautiful when I get up on that stage, and even though I don’t really care about fashions, I’m glad for it.

“Dexsia! Gallus is here!” Father calls from downstairs. And Lucretia, I finish in my head, but I smooth my bangs down and go back into the living room where everyone is waiting for me. Gallus looks somber and Lucretia keeps picking at a seam in the chair she’s sitting in. I want to tell her to stop it but I don’t dare.

“Hello,” I say, taking in the uncomfortable mood of the room.

Gallus gets straight to the point. “You don’t have to volunteer, you know. And even if you’re picked someone will volunteer and you won’t have to go. Why on earth are you sacrificing yourself?”

I don’t sit down; I stay standing in the doorway. “I’ve been working my whole life up to this moment. I can’t let Aulus down, Gallus. This is what I was born to do.”

“To kill innocent people? Dexsia, I don’t think you’ve thought this through. Do you even realize what this entails? You will have to kill the other tributes, other children.”

“I’m not a child, Gallus. I know what I’m doing. And if you loved me you would support me,” I say bitterly. Why is he making such a big deal out of this? He’ll get a chunk of my winnings when I come home. District 2 will be grateful to me for giving them gifts from the Capitol; my parents and I will move into a house in the Victor’s Village. Life will be perfect when I win. No more troubles, ever, for as long as I live. Isn’t that crossing his mind too?

Gallus strides across the room and takes my face in his hands. “I do love you, Dexsia. You’re my little sister. And it’s because I love you that I tell you this: Don’t volunteer. Stay home. Stay safe.”

I shake his hands off me. “You can’t change my mind. I’m going to volunteer.”

Gallus looks helplessly at my parents. “Mother? Father? Can’t you stop her?”

“She’s eighteen, son. I think she can decide for herself now whether she wants to go or not,” Father says quietly. His words end the conversation in both Gallus and my eyes. My brother drops into a chair and stares out the window. Lucretia jumps in with some meaningless chatter and my parents eagerly take her up on it. I stay quiet, looking at my brother. When did he become such a stranger? I used to know exactly what he was thinking, but since we’ve grown up, he’s put up a wall. I no longer know his thoughts any better than the president’s.

At one-thirty my mother stands up. “We best be getting going,” she says, and my father nods. The nerves are making my heart do odd things inside my chest. It’s the worst case of butterflies I’ve ever had. Am I excited? Nervous? Both? I can’t tell.

On the way to the city square I hold my mother’s hand tight. The pressure of her hand is reassuring. Keep calm, Dexsia. This is what you’ve been training for since you were eight. Suddenly, somehow, the Games seem more tangible than the abstract goal I’ve had in my head. Just keep walking.

In the square I squeeze my mother’s hand one more time. “I’ll see you when you come to say goodbye,” I say to her. She smiles and nods. My father looks proudly at me. I turn to see Gallus’s expression, but I can’t read it. Instead he merely gives a nod. I let go of my mother and go to sign in, then join the section of other eighteen-year olds to await the reapings.

We don’t have to wait long for the show to begin. First the mayor comes out with his stack of cue cards, then the previous victors. In thirty-six years, we have had five victors for District 2. One of them is Aulus, of course. He catches my eye in the crowd and gives me a friendly wink. Nothing bad will happen to me with Aulus being my mentor, I’m sure of it.

When the big town clock clicks to two, the Capitol representative, Titia Caleta comes out onto the stage, smiling widely at the people of District 2. I love seeing her outfits every year; this year she’s in a smart blue dress suit, embellished with dark blue jewels in sweeping patterns. Her hair is fascinating to me too, as it is light blue to match her dress and very ornately braided. Pinned to the left side of her head is a ship.

“Welcome, citizens of District 2! It’s so wonderful to see you again and to start another Hunger Games! Before we pick the names, let’s hear some words from the mayor,” Titia says, gesturing to our own mayor who steps forward with his cue cards. Like every year, he talks about the Dark Days and the creation of Panem, and why we have the Hunger Games to begin with. I tune it out like I do every year and focus on looking more at Titia’s outlandish outfit.

When the mayor’s finished, Titia steps back up to the microphone. Two Capitol attendants bring in the two reaping bowls and place them on either side of the microphone in the middle of the stage. I can hear and feel my heart hammering so hard in my chest I think it might explode. Titia smiles and speaks into the microphone, “Let’s start with the boys, shall we?”

She always switches it up. I can’t bear not hearing the girls’ names, but I’m also curious about who my district competition and ally will be. There’s no doubt that we will be allies, at least at first. While the crowd holds a collective breath, Titia reaches down into the boys’ bowl and rustles around, finally pulling out one slender piece of paper. She opens it, looks at it, and leans into the microphone.

“Galerus Daycloak.”

The crowd turns and looks around until we all see the boy who has been chosen. He’s tall, a little thin for my taste, with close cropped honey hair. He walks with steady feet up the stairs to the stage and waits. We all know he isn’t going to the Capitol.

Titia says, “Do we have any volunteers?” Immediately three boys lunge forwards, hands in the air. The one who yells quickest is tall too, with shaggy black hair. As he climbs the stairs, the other two boys back away. Everyone knows that it’s the volunteer with the quickest reflexes that gets chosen. All the others settle back, disappointed.

Galerus leaves the stage as the new boy comes up to take his place. The relief on the first boy’s face is unmistakable. Titia says, “What’s your name?” to the new volunteer.  
“Cossus Underthorn,” he says. How old is he? I’m guessing fifteen or sixteen. Titia gestures for him to step back, then she beams at us all again.

“And now for the girls!” My heart starts beating faster and faster. This is it, this is my chance, my only one. Titia reaches into the girls’ bowl, rustles around and pulls out a slip. Please don’t be me; if it’s me then I don’t have a chance!

In a clear, crisp voice, Titia reads, “Viria Darkbeach.” 

The girl comes from the thirteen-year-old section of the square. I bounce on the balls of my feet, ready to step forward when Titia speaks again.

When the short, thin girl is standing quietly by Titia, the latter speaks into the microphone. “Do we have a volunteer for Viria?”

Without hesitating I launch forward with my hand in the air. “I volunteer as tribute!” I shriek, narrowly beating out another eighteen-year-old by me. She scowls at me and I recognize her as another girl who’s been training with another victor. I don’t care. I’ve done it! I’ve done it!

The crowd parts before me as I walk through up to the stage, passing Viria by as she descends. With quick, careful steps I climb the stairs and walk up to Titia. Oh my. I can see everyone in District 2 from here. My heart beats faster. I’ve done it!

“What’s your name, my dear?” Titia asks, and I lean into the microphone.

“Dexsia Greentree,” I say. Titia beams at my district partner and I.

“I give you the tributes of District 2!” she says, and the whole crowd claps. Like we’re supposed to do, Cossus and I shake hands. His are damp and I fight the urge to wipe them on my dress. 

I’ve done it! I look at Aulus and he gives me a satisfied smile back. I’ve done it!

I am the District 2 tribute for the Thirty-sixth Hunger Games!


	6. Only One Will Return

** Dove Rosestar  **

Mum pushes a last strand of hair back into place behind my ear. “You look lovely,” she says to me. Her smile is forced and I know she’s trying to keep me calm. I throw my arms around her.

“I’ll be fine, you know I will,” I say. She nods.

“I know. You’ll be just fine.”

“Come on,” Cabel says, stepping into the room. “They’ll be coming by to make sure everyone’s out of their houses soon, and I don’t want to be here for that.”

The door shuts behind us and Cabel locks it. He looks at me reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be home soon.”

“I know. I just hate the reapings, that’s all,” I say. 

“We all do, Dove.”

The walk to the city square is a quiet one. I can feel the tenseness radiating off my mother. She’s been like this every year since my father died, maybe even before then. I can’t remember. But she’s scared and trying to hide it.

Cabel, on the other hand, is as strong and stable as always. Please don’t let anything happen to my brother, I think. How could Mum manage without him? How could I? None of us tries to make conversation as we walk, so I concentrate on navigating through the crowd. Cabel reaches out to me and holds my hand tight.

“Get over! Move along!” shouts a Peacekeeper as we approach the square. Since Ferrick Stone was shot, two more suspected rebels have been executed here. Cabel has been even quieter at home than usual lately; he knew both of them. What if they think Cabel is involved somehow? He promised he wouldn’t be, but still!

“Fourteen-year olds! Fourteen-year olds sign in here!” shouts another Peacekeeper; I recognize some of my classmates being herded in her direction. Cabel gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“See you after the reapings,” he says, then I’m pushed one way and he goes another way towards the sixteen-year-old section.

After I sign in, I find my friend Opal and stand next to her. We smile at each other but say nothing. There will be time to talk afterwards. For now, I watch as the square fills up around us with the eligible children of District 6. Ringed around the outside of our groups stand the families; everyone hoping that their children or siblings come home today and not go to the Capitol. Just the sheer number of people overwhelms me.

Opal pokes me in the side and I train my eyes forward to the newly constructed stage at the front of the square. They put it up every year for the reapings and take it down right afterwards. Now the mayor has come out to read the compulsory history of Panem and the reason behind the Hunger Games.

“In the Dark Days, the thirteen districts rose up against the Capitol in an act of disgraceful rebellion. Through swift retaliation, twelve districts were subdued, the thirteenth annihilated from existence. As our reminder in the districts that such a rebellion must never happen again, the Hunger Games were born.”

There’s more to it after that, but I stop listening and start biting my nails instead. I come back into tune when the mayor steps to the side and our district representative, Albinia Locket, comes out on stage, followed closely by the reaping bowls, filled to the brim with white paper. Somewhere in there is my name and I suck in my breath.

Albinia is a tiny woman; she must be shorter than me and I’m not that tall either. She makes up for it with these wicked heels that make her totter around the stage a good six inches taller. Today she’s wearing an absurd hairstyle that can only be a wig; it’s as tall as a toddler and bright pink, dotted with something I can’t see clearly. It’s her face that gives the shivers, though; grotesquely tattooed with pink swirls that swoop under and over her eyes, curling around her mouth. Capitol fashions.

“Hello, hello District 6!” she crows, her voice lower than the usual Capitol accent. Everything she says is still very clipped at the ends of her sentences, though. “Well, we’re running a little behind, so let’s just get to it! Let’s start with the gentlemen today!”

I chew my nails and hold my breath as Albinia ruffles around the boys’ bowl with her hand, finally settling on one slip and walking crisply back to the microphone. She opens it, reads it, then says into the microphone, “Cabel Rosestar!”

I feel like I’ve been punched. Opal grabs my arm. No! No! This isn’t supposed to happen! They weren’t supposed to choose my brother! No!

Cabel pushes through the crowd, tall and steady as always. I focus on the back of his head, the black hair that matches my own, and had matched my father’s. No! Not my brother!  
He passes the mayor and goes to stand by Albinia, his expression unreadable. I try to seek his eyes but they seem to deliberately avoid me.

“Do we have any volunteers?” Albinia asks cheerfully. Yes! Someone volunteer for my brother! Please!

But nobody does. There’s only quiet with some soft whispers in the crowd. And nobody volunteers for Cabel. When the allowed time is up, a Peacekeeper on the stage motions him backwards and Cabel steps back to await the female tribute.

“Now for the ladies!” Albinia says, still chipper. My heart beats fast in my chest as she dips her hand into the girls’ bowl. I keep looking back and forth between Cabel and Albinia. My brother is unreachable, staring into the distance. Why did she pick him?

Albinia marches back to the center of the stage, opens the slip of paper she chose, and leans into the microphone again.

“Dove Rosestar.”

No.

No.

NO!

This can’t be happening, it can’t be me, it can’t be both me and Cabel! There has to be some mistake! I’m stepping backwards, preparing to run, when Opal catches my arm. The look on her face breaks my heart again and again, until there’s nothing left of it to splinter.

No!

Albinia speaks again, but I hear her as if she was underwater. “Dove Rosestar, please come to the stage.”

I can’t, I can’t go up there. My ears hear everything a little muffled, until the Peacekeepers start to come down the stage to get me. Then everything clears and I move forward as if in a dream. The crowd parts before me as I move through them, and, still dazed, I make it to the stage. 

A Peacekeeper is waiting there and takes my arm, half helping me, half dragging me up the steps to the stage. For a second I meet Cabel’s eyes, and they’re full of pain. Then I’m led to Albania and let go.

“Do we have a volunteer for Dove?” she asks, peering down at the crowd. People mutter more now, now that two Rosestars have been chosen. What are the odds of that happening? I search the crowd for my mother, and see her at the back, crying. My heart snaps again.

No volunteers. No one speaks up to save me. Why won’t anyone speak up? Would you? I think to myself; would you volunteer for someone else? And I know the answer is no.  
The Peacekeeper gestures me backwards by Cabel. We stand side by side, unmoving, until Albania announces, “The tributes of District 6!”

The crowd claps, as they’re supposed to do. From years of watching the reapings I know that Cabel and I must shake hands, to show that we will go in as allies, at least at first. Instead, he grips my hand so tightly I think he will never let go.

But he does, once the ceremony is over, and we’re herded in two different directions into the City Hall by Peacekeepers. 

“Cabel!” I shriek as I’m led up some stairs to a beautiful room, much nicer than anything I’ve ever seen in District 6. There’s a soft yellow couch and little else in it, but the wallpaper is nice, all vines and flowers. I stand there, unsure what to do. My heart beats fast and I swallow another scream.

“Sit,” says one of the Peacekeepers, then they leave me alone. Of course. This is when I say my goodbyes, in the one hour I’m allowed. I want to see Cabel, but I suppose I’ll be seeing him quite a bit over the next while.

How am I going to face my brother in the arena?

The first person who comes isn’t my mother; it’s Opal. Mum must have gone to Cabel first.

“Dove! I’m so sorry!” Opal says as soon as she walks in the door, and she bursts into tears. That sets me off and we both end up crying on the couch.  
“You have to win, Dove!” Opal says, finally sitting back.

“But if I do, then Cabel dies!” I say, wiping my eyes and crying more.

“Maybe you can both win.”

I shake my head. “They’ll never allow that. There’s never been two victors.”

“Maybe because you’re siblings they’ll let you!”

Too soon the Peacekeepers signal our time is up. Opal squeezes me one last time, kisses my cheek, and is ushered out. I try to take deep breathes to calm down.

The next person who comes in is my mother, and I can’t help but cry when I see her. She has tears pouring down her face too, and for the first bit she just holds me and rocks me like she used to when I was little. I feel little now; more four than fourteen.

Mum takes my face into her hands and just looks at me, like she’s trying to memorize every bit of my face. “My beautiful girl,” she whispers. 

“Listen, Cabel and I have already talked. You’re going to come home, don’t worry.”

“But what about Cabel?” I ask.

“He insisted that you would be the victor. He’s going to look out for you in the arena.”

“But I don’t want him to die!” I sob, hugging her tight. She’s crying harder too.

“I don’t want either of you to. But I’m going to lose one of you,” she says, and her voice breaks.

“You be good and behave in the Capitol. Show them what District 6 is worth. Get a good score. Oh sweetheart, what am I going to do without you?” Mum says, weeping still.

“I love you, Mum,” I say, muffled. Her tears drip on my face.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

Then the Peacekeeper is back, signalling our time is up.

“No! Don’t go!” I scream, and Mum holds tight to me.

“Let’s go!” he says, pulling at her arm.

“Mum! Mum!” I shriek, reaching for her and falling off the couch in the process.

“I love you! I love you!” she calls as she’s dragged out. The door slams and I collapse in absolute despair on the carpet. Nothing is going to be alright.


	7. The Reapings of District 8

** Terra Coppersmith  **

I hope Iry is alright and not worrying. She was really jumpy and anxious this morning. Who can blame her? I’m glad she’s not eligible this year, so I don’t have to worry about her. Before I signed in, I handed her over to Mrs. Underfall.

“See you in a bit, munchkin,” I said, pulling one of Iry’s braids that I did this morning. “Thanks, Mrs. Underfall.”

“It’s not trouble. See you after. Good luck you two,” Mrs. Underfall replied, shooing Deecey and me off to the rest of our group. Now, Deecey and I stand side by side with the rest of the sixteen-year olds, hands interlocked.

“We’ll be alright, you know we will,” she says to me in a low voice. I nod back to her.

“Two more years and we won’t have to do this anymore,” I say.

The mic crackles into use, filling the square briefly with static. Deecey holds my hand tighter.

“Hello, hello all!” Our idiotic representative from the Capitol walks out onstage in such a vibrantly orange suit I have to blink. Deecey giggles next to me and I bite my lip to stop from laughing too. 

Postumius Opiter, which I think is the stupidest name ever, has been our representative for the last two years. I have no idea what happened to the woman before him, but she wasn’t half as interesting as Postumius. He seems to favor orange this year, with a bright orange suit, orange eye shadow, and a massive head of orange curls that stand out like he’s being constantly shocked. He’s the only good thing about the reapings. 

“Well, welcome to the reapings for the Thirty-sixth Hunger Games!” he says, expecting us all to cheer. Most of the crowd claps, including myself, but Deecey is more daring than the rest of us and lets out a “Whoop!”

The people around us glare at her, but I dissolve into giggles. Deecey looks at me and starts laughing silently too.

“We have some enthusiastic people in the crowd!” Postumius says cheerfully. “I think we’re ready to get started!”

The reaping bowls full of the little slips of our names are carried in and placed on either side of Postumius in the center of the stage. All hilarity has gone out of the situation and Deecey holds my hand tightly in both of hers. This is it; the next moments could make or break us.

“Let’s start with the ladies, shall we?” Postumius says, reaching into the bowl with white gloved hands. I hold my breath as he catches one, pulls it out, and reads it aloud.

“Terra Coppersmith!”

Deecey lets out a little shriek. What? Is that me? Did they choose me? This can’t be happening.

“No! No!” someone shrieks behind me, far behind me, and I know it’s Iry, and what is she thinking now? I can’t leave her, I’m all she has!

Deecey squeezes my hand again and pushes me forward. I have to jostle my way through the crowd of eligible tributes, all of whom look at me with wide eyes. Their eyes say, “I’m glad it’s you, not me,” like I’ve been thinking every year before now.

I have to be strong. I can’t show weakness now, not now that I’ve been chosen. So I climb the stairs to the stage and stand next to Postumius, who doesn’t look as humorous as he did before.

“How old are you, my dear?” he asks, still cheerful. Doesn’t he know he’s picked me for death?

“Sixteen.”

“Do we have a volunteer, any volunteers?” he asks the crowd. The crowd stays silent, all eyes on me. There’s no escape.

“I give you the female tribute of District 8!” Postumius shouts, raising my hand in the air. Like I’m supposed to do, I back up a little after he drops my arm, giving him room to chose the boy tribute. 

Another crisp, white piece of paper with someone else’s doom written on it.

“Fletcher Wellrock!”

Today is not going in Deecey’s favor. That’s the boy she’s mentioned she’s going to marry one day, or was. I don’t think she’s going to be marrying him any time soon if he’s dead.  
He comes through the crowd, solidly built and handsome, and ascends the stairs to stand next to Postumius as well. He’s good at keeping emotion from his face, but when he came up the steps, I could see the terrified look in his eyes. 

Nobody volunteers for him either. So it’s him and me. 

“The tributes of District 8! Terra Coppersmith and Fletcher Wellrock!” Postumius shouts, linking our hands as per tradition. I look out at the crowd before me, knowing that this is likely my last look of my home. Then all thoughts turn to Iry as Fletcher and I are taken into custody.

We haven’t been arrested, but we’re not free to go either. Our freedom was taken away with those little paper slips. I want to say something to him, but we’re marched up separate stairs of the Justice Building. I’m put in a sort of office area with nice seating. Much nicer than anything we’ve ever had in my house. 

This is where I say my final goodbyes.

Iry comes first, pushing past the Peacekeeper at the door and running into my arms, sobbing.

“Don’t go! Don’t go!” She says, hugging me fiercely. I’m blinking back my tears; I refuse to be seen as weak. There will be cameras at the train station too, and I won’t let them see me cry.

“I have to, munchkin. Listen, I love you so much. I can’t tell you how much I love you,” I say, choking a little.

“I’m going to get out, and I’m going to win for you, Iry. Okay? Then we’ll be rich and we won’t have to worry ever again. We can live in one of those fancy houses in the Victor’s Village and have everything we want. I promise.”

“Really try to win, Terra. Please.”

For a minute I just rock my little sister back and forth. Then she whispers, “Where am I going to go while you’re gone?”

“To Deecey’s. They’ll take you, I know they will.”

“If you don’t come back, the Peacekeepers won’t let me stay with them, though! They’ll put me in the home!” Iry wails.

“So, I’ll come back. Don’t worry. I’ll win this thing and come back to you. I won’t let you go to the community home, not if I can help it.”

I sit back a little and pull the house key out of my pocket. “Take this, it’s the key to the house. You can go with Mrs. Underfall and Deecey to our house and get your things. Don’t forget to lock the door, okay?”

Iry nods. Then she pulls out the necklace she always wears, undoing it and handing it to me. “Can you wear this in the arena?”

It’s my mother’s wedding ring on a chain. My father gave it to Iry when she was just little, to remember Mother by. I swallow hard, then I nod. I’ve just clasped it around my own neck when the Peacekeeper comes back.

“Time’s up.”

I squeeze Iry one last time and kiss her cheek. “I love you! I love you!” I say, and she’s crying, and I’m trying not to cry. Then she’s gone, the door shut.

A minute later it opens again; Mrs. Underfall comes in and sits next to me on the couch.

“I want you to know that I’ll take care of Iry,” she says in a soft voice. I nod. “Deecey and I will make sure she gets to school and work on time, until you get back.”

Through my choked throat I whisper, “I don’t know if I can win.” 

“You can, I know you can. And even if you don’t, I’ll find a way to look after Iry.”

“If I don’t come back, she’ll have to go to the community home,” I say.

“And I’ll make sure she’s alright there too.”

Mrs. Underfall stands up, her voice cracking a little. “I’m very glad to know you, Terra, and I want you to know that you are like my own daughter to me. We’ll be watching for you and praying for you.”

She gives me a giant hug, one that says everything. Then she’s gone too.

Deecey comes in last, crying her eyes out already.

“Don’t get me started, Deecey! I can’t be crying at the station!” I say, hugging her hard. “Did you see Fletcher?” 

She shakes her head. “Go tell him you’re going to marry him. You don’t have much to lose,” I say, and she laughs, wiping her eyes.

“So, you’re going. I can’t believe they picked you,” she says, both of us sitting down together for one last talk. I can’t believe I won’t ever see Deecey again. The pain of losing her is red hot in my chest. Don’t cry, Terra! Don’t cry.

“I can’t believe it either. I’ll get to see the Capitol, at least. Remember when we used to wonder about it when we were kids?” I say. She nods.

“Can you get in with the Careers? You’re strong enough, they’ll want you.”

“I doubt it. But I’ll try.”

“And try to win. You’ve got to win, Terra!” she says, looking me in the face with a sense of urgency I’ve never felt from her before.

“I’m not going in to give up. I’m going to give it my best shot. I’ve got to come home, for Iry. And you.”

“You’re the best friend I could ever have,” Deecey says, hugging me tight. 

“You too. Take care of yourself. I’ll be back, you’ll see.”

Then the Peacekeeper is here, and the time is up.

“Be brave,” Deecey whispers. Then she’s gone.

Nobody else comes, so I sit, looking around the room, blinking back tears, until the hour is up.


	8. One Slip of Paper

** Catalina Nightwind **

“Catalina Nightwind!”

The woman from the Capitol looks down expectantly at us all, waiting for the girl chosen to come up to the stage. Waiting for me.

Father promised me this morning, before we left the house, that I would be safe. That my name would never be chosen. 

One slip of paper in thousands.

But they chose me anyway.

Before I really realize what’s going on, Challah has pushed through the crowds to me, holding me tight. “Go on up, Cat,” she says, and I hear the tears in her voice.

Like they’re expecting me to, I pull away from my sister, but I start crying on the way up. When I get to the lady from the Capitol, Miri Pola, I cover my face and just sob. Somewhere in the crowd I can hear someone else sobbing; my family?

“Do we have a volunteer for Miss Catalina?” Miri asks.

Through my tears I see Challah move forward. No Challah! Don’t volunteer for me! 

Before she can say anything, Lavender has run to her, wrapped her arms around Challah, and spoken to her. Challah shakes her head, trying to fight against Lavender, but then she steps back.

“No volunteers?” Miri asks. Challah’s crying, and Lavender’s crying, and I’m crying because I’m going to die in the arena.

“Let’s move on to the boys then!” Miri pipes, moving to the boys’ bowl. I can’t stop crying, even though I know everyone in Panem is watching me right now. I don’t care. I’m only twelve! I can cry if I want to.

“Hiro Joinlake!” Miri announces, holding the little slip of paper. Hiro makes his way through the crowd, which parts for him, and up the steps to the stage. He takes his place by my side. Will he kill me in the arena?

“Do we have a volunteer?” Miri asks, and a taller, bigger boy lunges forward in the crowd, arm in the air. He needn’t be so aggressive about it; nobody else is going to volunteer.  
“I volunteer as tribute!”

The relief is evident on Hiro’s face as the Peacekeepers let him go and wait for the new boy to come up. He’s obviously seventeen or eighteen, but I don’t know his name. He’s not familiar to me.

“What’s your name?” Miri asks, and the boy thumps on his chest.

“Ornam Duskpath!” he crows, looking out with elation at the crowd. He scares me a little; he’s so much taller than me.

“The tributes of District 9!” Miri says, and everyone claps for us. I want to run off the stage, go and find my family, but the Peacekeeper closest to me takes my arm and leads me into the City Hall.

“Let me go! Let me go!” I shriek at him, but he just carries me away to a room, dropping me there and shutting the door.

I jump up and start to bang on the door, but it’s locked. “Let me out!” I scream, then collapse backwards in tears. This can’t be happening! It must be a nightmare and Challah will be waking me up any time.

The door opens and my parents rush in, picking me off the ground and sitting with me on the couch behind us. My mother is crying, my father blinking back tears.

“I’m sorry!” I cry, hanging onto them. This is the last time I will ever see them. No twelve-year-old has ever won the Games. I’m not likely to now.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Catalina,” my mother says, holding me tighter. 

“You are the best daughter we could ever hope for,” my father says, kissing my forehead.

“I’m going to miss you,” I say, breaking down in more tears.

“Listen to me, Catalina,” my father says, holding me by the shoulders and making me look him in the face. “This is what I want you to do. You’re going to train hard; you’re going to find an alliance somewhere in there. Hide in the arena. Listen to your mentor, whoever it’s going to be. They’re going to keep you alive. You’re going to win, and you’re going to come home. Do you hear me?”

I nod. “Nobody’s ever come home as a twelve-year old, though.”

“You are going to make history and be the first. Understand?”

“Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“You are going to be a victor, Catalina. Do what you have to do to come home, and we’ll forgive everything when you come home. Learn to fight.”

“Time to go,” the Peacekeeper says, opening the door. Mother grows hysterical.

“No! Give us more time!”

“Out!”

Mother kisses my forehead quickly and gives me a hug. “I love you! Be good, Catalina! I love you!”

“I love you!” I cry. Father kisses my forehead then grips my wrists.

“You’ll be a victor. I’ll see you on the other side.” With another kiss, he’s gone.

I bury my face in my hands and cry more; I’ve never cried so hard in my life. The door opens again and Edel comes in with Lavender.

“Cat!” Lavender says, rushing to my side. She’s not crying but Edel is, softly. They come on either side of me and just hold me. My beloved sisters. What am I going to do without them?

“You’re going to come home okay. I just know it. I’ll start a collection, get you some sponsors,” Edel says, brushing the tears from my face.

Lavender stands up and starts pacing. “It’s not fair! They shouldn’t be able to choose twelve-year olds; it’s not fair!”

“I know it’s not, but that’s what’s happened,” Edel says patiently. 

“There’s going to be ways to survive. Get a weapon, get away from everyone else. Wait them out, Cat. And if you need to, kill them all,” Lavender says, stopping in front of me.  
“I don’t think I can kill anyone,” I say, leaning into Edel.

“Then you’re not going to be a victor. Cat, it’s going to be you against them in the arena, and only you are going to be the survivor of the Games. Swear you’ll try, Cat; swear you’ll try to get out.”

“I promise.”

Then their time is up too, and Edel is crying, Lavender is crying, I’m crying more. 

“I’ll come back!” I say, and they’re gone.

Almost immediately, Challah bursts in and shuts the door even before the Peacekeeper can. “I can’t believe they chose you. I know we don’t have a lot of time to say goodbye, but I want you to know that I would have volunteered for you if Lavender hadn’t stopped me,” she says, taking my arms and sitting down.

“I know. I saw you. I’m glad she stopped you; I don’t want you to volunteer for me.”

“Listen, I know it’s going to be hard, and it’s going to be scary. I need you to be brave.”

“I already promised everyone else that I would come home.”

“And you will. Cat, I want to move into one of those big mansions when you come home, so try really hard to win,” Challah says, and we both laugh.

“Rich beyond your wildest dreams, and safe for life. You’ll be fine. You’ll manage. Oh, but I want you to have this,” Challah continues, taking off her bracelet and slipping it onto my wrist. I’ve hardly ever seen her without it; it’s beautiful, made of blue and white beads woven together.

“Are you sure?” I ask, fingering the beadwork.

“I want you to have a piece of home when you go into the arena. Wear it?”

“Of course!” I throw my arms around my big sister. “You’ll have the bed all to yourself for awhile.”

“Finally!” she teases. Then she grows serious, looking into my eyes hard.

“Come home, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then the precious minutes are up, and Challah is gone, leaving me alone in the room.


	9. The Train

** Dexsia Greentree **

Outside the train, the day is slowly turning into night as we zoom away towards the Capitol. I watch out the window in a dream state; I’ve never been on a train before. My thoughts turn back to saying goodbye to my family, only a few hours ago.

My parents had come first, beaming and chatting loudly. “We’re so proud of you!” Mother said, hugging me.

“No tears now,” Father had said, chucking me underneath the chin. “We expect to see you back here a victor!”

“I’ll be back, you’ll see!” We weren’t sad to part, because we all know I’m coming back. Still, it hurt a little seeing them go. I’ve never been away from home before.

Gallus had come after them, sitting quietly next to me. “Be careful in the arena, Dexsia. I wish you hadn’t volunteered,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me! I’ll be back before you know it, and you can watch me on the screen as always.”

Gallus hugged me then, for the first time in ages. “Then be safe and see you soon.”

And he was gone. Lucretia never came to say goodbye, which is excellent. Nobody else came either.

I’m brought back to the present by someone sitting down beside me.

“Well done, Dexsia,” Aulus says, smiling. I smile back, turning my attention from the window.

“I did alright, then?” I ask.

“Quickest girl in the crowd. Come on, let’s go talk to Titia; she’s dying to get to know you. A warning, though: she might come off a little too enthusiastic.”

As we walk along the corridor towards wherever we’re going, I ask Aulus, “Are you going to be my mentor, then?”

“I called you ten years ago. Nobody else had a chance,” Aulus says, smiling.

I’ve known Aulus ever since I can remember; as a little kid I would see him up on the stage at reapings. He was almost like a god to me then; he could do what almost nobody could do- win. He was our victor. Then when I was eight, a bunch of us kids competed to be trained by him. Out of ten or twelve kids, he chose me. 

Right now, I’m trying to peg how old he is; he must be in his early forties if he won the Games twenty-three years ago. He’s still in excellent shape for having won years ago. Must be the training he does with us. I know he has some other kids he trains who are younger than me, but I think I’m his favorite.

“So, who’s the other mentor?” I ask.

“Remember Victoria Thorne?”

“Is she that really tall girl who won a few years ago?”

“Yep, that’s the one. She’s the boy’s mentor. The others took the year off.”

As Aulus finishes speaking, he turns a door knob at the end of the hall and ushers me through it. I can’t get over how beautiful this train is; elaborate carpets, gorgeous wallpaper. And on the other side of the door is food.

The main table has been laid with four plates, and in the middle is the most delicious food I’ve ever seen in my life. Cossus, the other tribute, is already sitting down, but when Aulus and I enter, Titia gets up and rushes towards us.

Her hair is even more amazing up close; the ship pinned to it is so delicate and detailed. “Aulus has told me all about you! It’s so nice to see an eager tribute!” she says, hugging me tightly. She leans back and pinches my cheeks, which hurts but I don’t want to hurt her feelings by saying so.

“And what a beautiful dress!” she says, looking me up and down.

“Thank you! My mother bought it for me!” I say, swishing the hem back and forth.

“Well, why don’t you sit down to some food and we can become acquainted before we watch the recap?” Titia says, taking my arm and half leads, half marches me to a chair beside Cossus. As I sit down, I catch Aulus’ eye and he winks at me again.

As I pick up a piece of chicken, a really tall woman walks in and greets us all.

“Hello, Victoria! I thought you might not be joining us!” Titia says, gesturing to an empty seat.

“And miss this food? You don’t know me at all, Titia,” Victoria says as she sits.

I place Victoria as being early twenties, which makes sense since she only won a few years ago. She’s tall, taller than anyone here, and very athletic. Today she has her dark, heavy hair pulled back, and it suits her.

“So, you’re my tribute, are you?” she says, pointing a fork at Cossus. He nods. “So what made you volunteer?”

“My mom’s sick at home, and if I win the Games then I have a shot at getting her medicine and proper food,” Cossus says. Victoria raises her eyebrow.

“Well, aren’t you going to be an easy one to sell to the sponsors. They’ll just lap the story up. How old are you anyway?”

“Fifteen.”

“Well you have a chance then. Anyone knows the kids under fourteen aren’t going to come back,” Victoria says, putting a forkful of food in her mouth.

“And I know you; you’re Aulus’ favorite,” she says to me next. “Eighteen I’m guessing, since that’s how old Aulus takes his tributes to the Capitol.”

“I’m eighteen, yes.”

“You’ve got a shot at the crown too, then. No offense, kid,” she says offhandedly to Cossus. “The District 2s are always the strongest and the most prepared. You’ve got a better shot at the crown than almost anyone else.”

There’s silence for a little bit while everyone eats and thinks.

Aulus speaks up, “Let me tell you what’s going to happen once we get to the Capitol. You’re going to meet your prep team whose job it is to make you good looking. Do what they tell you to do, and you’ll be fine. Tomorrow night, if you haven’t been watching the Games since you were kids, you’ll know that it’s the parade. Got it?”

“I read you loud and clear,” I say. This is all so exciting, and the food is so good.

After supper, Aulus, Victoria, and Titia all lead Cossus and I into this gorgeous living room with a couch full of cushions, and a large television on the wall. This train is the most beautiful and luxurious place I’ve ever been in.

“Let’s see the competition,” Cossus says, and I settle back to watch this year’s reapings. 

First up from District 1 are two blonde tributes, seventeen and eighteen; both of them volunteers. The boy’s name is Velvet and the girl’s is Treasure. I choke down a laugh at that.

“Aren’t the District 1’s names idiotic? They get more ridiculous every year,” Aulus says, and then I do laugh. Even Cossus, who so far has been pretty serious, lets out a chuckle.

“Get used to those names; those are going to be your allies,” Victoria says. “The District 1s, 2s, and 4s team up every year; but of course, you two know that.”

Then it’s the recap of our reapings. I look really good volunteering, and genuinely happy to be there. Aulus grabs my arm and raises it in the air. 

“That’s the look of a victor, girl!” he says. Cossus gives us a side eye then turns back to the screen.

From 3 there’s a weak looking boy who’s no competition at all, and an absolutely gorgeous twelve-year-old with blonde hair. According to the screen, she’s called Summer.

“Well,” Titia says, marking the names and ages down in a notebook she’s pulled out of nowhere, “Isn’t she the most darling thing you’ve ever seen?”

Our second pair of allies from 4 are a shorter boy who’s fourteen, and a taller girl with a very angled face who’s seventeen. Titia marks them down as Mica and Calypso.

From 5 there’s two eighteen-year olds; a dangerous looking boy and a tough looking girl. Aulus whistles through his teeth. “Depending on what they can do, might be worthwhile seeing if you can ally with them, too.” 

“Those two look like tough competiton,” Victoria says, curling up on the couch further. “You two will be fine though. You can take them any day, if what Aulus says is true.”

“Dexsia is the best trainee with a sword I’ve seen in years,” Aulus says proudly, and I can’t help but grin.

From District 6 there’s a more unusual reaping. Titia squeals and taps her feet on the floor. “Those two are siblings! What bad luck for them, but that will make a wonderful show!” she says, scribbling faster. 

I haven’t heard of siblings in the Games before, but I’m sure it’s happened sometime. The older of them is the boy tribute, who’s sixteen, and the younger is the girl who’s fourteen. Both of them have the same black hair and alarmed eyes. I feel some pity for them, but I forget about it with the next tributes. I’m so very interested in learning who our competition is.

“Well he’s not going to be the victor, look at him!” Aulus says about the short thirteen-year old from 7. The girl is more memorable, with a head of red curls. 

“But look at that hair! There’s no hiding that in the arena,” Victoria says about the girl, Cedar.

From 8 there’s a tall handsome seventeen-year old boy with darker skin, and a somewhat plain sixteen-year old girl, Terra, with the same darker skin and brown curly hair. 

“Lots of older tributes this year,” Victoria comments.

“Should be interesting,” Aulus says casually.

From 9 there’s a volunteer, which surprises me, and a little twelve-year old girl who cries onstage. Titia lets out a sigh.

“Poor little mite, isn’t she tiny?” she says. Then she turns back to her book and scribbles some more when the tributes from 10 are reaped; a skinny yet fit boy, and a strong and plain looking girl. 

“She’s no beauty, is she?” Titia says. “Her stylist will have a time with her.”

From District 11 there’s a fourteen-year old boy who’s not the healthiest looking, and a girl with long black hair and dark skin who volunteers. 

“Quite a few volunteers this year,” Aulus remarks. 

Finally, there’s a really strong looking eighteen-year old boy and a little thirteen-year old girl from District 12. Then the anthem comes on and the television blinks out.

“Well, I’d say you have your work cut out for you,” Aulus says, stretching. “Get some sleep for now; we’ll be in the Capitol first thing in the morning.”

As if on cue, two girls in red silently appear, eyes down and hands clasped.

“They’ll take you to your rooms. Goodnight!” Titia says. Cossus and I get up, bidding farewell to the three of them, and each follow one of the maids to our rooms.

“Well, goodnight,” Cossus says finally.

“Goodnight,” I say, standing in front of the door that’s slid open in front of me. Then we both hurry into our rooms, the doors sliding shut behind us.

After seeing my competition, it finally registers what it really means. Twenty-four tributes go in, one comes out.

I have to be that victor.


	10. Into the Cheering Crowd

** Dove Rosestar **

The light coming through the window wakes me up. Where am I? Then the sleep haze clears and the memories of the day before rebounds back and I bury my head in my pillow.

After we said goodbye to our family and our district, Cabel and I were put into a car with Albinia Locket, who would not stop chatting the whole way. Cabel and I were just silent; my hand in his. Once we got to the station, there were cameras everywhere, and I was scared of them all, knowing that everyone in the country could see me. Cabel grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the train, followed closely by Albinia.

Once the train was in motion, I broke down into tears again. “I can’t do it, Cabel! I can’t do it!” I sobbed. He picked me up off the floor and pulled me over to a chair.

“Nothing is going to happen to you. I promised Mum I would take care of you in the arena, and I’m going to make sure you’re going to come out, alright?”

“I don’t want you to die!” I said, hugging him around the neck.

Cabel pulled back and grabbed my forearms. “Listen to me, Dove! Listen! One of us is going to come out of there and it’s going to be you. So, we’re going to train in the Capitol and we’re going to make you the readiest you’ll ever be to go into the arena. And I’ll stay by your side the whole time; nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. Got it?”

I wiped my eyes and nodded. Behind us someone started clapping and we whirled around.

“You’ve got a lot to do if you’re going to get her to be a victor,” said the man behind us. Fabian Porter, District 6’s only male victor. He won maybe thirteen years ago, and since then he’s fallen out of shape and into a bit of disrepair. He’s not very well known for being kind and caring.

Cabel stood up and faced Fabian, who looked him up and down. “You’re something to look at though, boy, aren’t you? You could get some sponsors, especially with the sibling tragedy you’re going to play up. Not so sure about the girl.”

“Dove is going to be fine in the arena,” Cabel said. “You’ll see. She’ll have me.”

“And you’re that confident that you’ll be alive the whole Games? Tell me more, boy,” Fabian said.

Cabel would have said more, but our other mentor, Lexa Icewing came in then and stood beside Fabian. She’s a victor of about twenty years ago, and she’s still capable, I think. She’s pretty anyways.

“So, we have some dramatic ones, do we this year?” she said, crossing her arms. “Which one do you want, Fabian?”

“I’ll take the boy. You can have the girl,” Fabian said. I was fine with that; I didn’t want Fabian to be responsible for me anyway.

“Supper!” Albinia said, appearing out of almost nowhere and pushing all of us along to the dining room.

After a fairly quiet supper we watched the reapings.

“Any tributes that stand out as allies for you two?” Lexa asked after the television was shut off. Cabel shook his head.

“I don’t want any other allies. It’s just going to be Dove and me in the arena.”

“Suit yourself boy; it’s your death sentence. Go to bed, I’ve had enough of you,” Fabian said, and dismissed us.

Before we got to our rooms, Cabel grabbed my arm again.

“Just you and me, Dove. We’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

Someone knocks on my door. “Dove? Are you awake?” It’s Cabel. I jump up and open the door for my brother.

“You should see this. We’re pulling into the Capitol,” he says. Still in the nightgown I put on last night, I follow Cabel out to the living room, and I gasp.

The Capitol! I’ve seen it on the television, but I’ve never seen it like this; all the colors and the majestic buildings, and the people watching us come in to the station!

“Go get dressed!” Lexa says coming in to the room. “You can’t make a good impression in your nightgown, and believe me, you’ll need sponsors.”

I go back to find the dress I wore for the reapings, but it’s disappeared in the night; I have no choice but to look in the wardrobe in the corner of the room. When I hit some buttons, it brings forth a beautiful dark blue dress, exactly my size.

After I’m dressed, I go back out to meet Cabel and the others just as the train is pulling into the station. I give a small gasp at the people who are cheering outside and waiting to see us; they’re so decorated in bright colors, and some are so disfigured by surgeries they’re terrifying.

“What have they done to themselves?” I whisper to Cabel. He shakes his head, his forehead creased. 

“Smile and wave!” Albinia says; she’s happy even if Cabel and I aren’t. Of course; she’s coming home. Imagine living here!

The train slows; the crowd and cameras swarm around the window, staring at us. I give a little wave and try to smile as best I can. I pick some people out in the crowd that fascinate me and repel me most; a woman with bright pink hair that seems to be tied in a bow; a man with whiskers and a swishing calico tail that pokes out of his trousers; a group of children all with pastel hair and gems sparkling above their eyes.

Then the train passes the station and goes through a tunnel, picking up speed again. The lights come on brighter as everything outside grows dark.

“Are you ready?” Albinia asks, looking at Cabel and me.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“The Prep Center. You are en route to your prep teams and the chariot rides,” says Fabian, coming in behind us.

“What are they going to do there?” Cabel asks. 

“You’ll see, but don’t protest anything they do to you. Got it?” Fabian says.

“But-“ I start.

“Protest nothing! Get ready, it’s time to go.”

Several hours later, I’ve met my prep team, who scare me just as much as the people outside the window. They all talk in the high-pitched Capitol accent, and all of them have had some modification done.

I haven’t been listening to Fabian very well, since I keep telling the prep team to stop what they’re doing. I can get away with not listening to him, though. He’s not my mentor; Lexa is.

“Stop complaining!” says the woman with bright orange hair and electric blue eyes. “We can’t get anything done until you be quiet!”

I cross my arms. “What if I don’t want you to do whatever you’re doing?”

“Then you don’t get pretty and you don’t get sponsors!” says the woman with green hair in foot long spikes. I keep my arms crossed for a minute longer, then give in. I’ll need sponsors too much to refuse.

Once they’ve scrubbed, scraped, soaked, and trimmed me, I’m left alone in the room to wait for my stylist. I have on a robe but I feel so very embarrassed. Where is Cabel? Are they doing this to him too?

“So, you’re Dove,” says the man entering, and I jump backwards, because he’s been dyed completely blue.

I can’t help myself. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” the man asks, genuinely confused.

“Why are you blue?”

“Oh, that! Isn’t it handsome on me?” he says, bouncing back.

Sure. Sure, it is.

“I’m your stylist, Quintus,” says the man in blue. He angles his head side to side, looking me up and down. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“And you came with your brother, didn’t you? Bit of bad luck for you isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, well I’m here to get you ready for the parade tonight! District 6, transportation! Come with me; I have your costume ready!”

An hour later, I’m standing in the stable area by the horses, dressed as a pilot with lights running up and down my pants.

It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen, let alone worn.

“Aren’t we looking fetching,” Cabel says, coming over trailed by his own stylist. He’s dressed identically to me.

“I think I’m ready for this to be over,” I say, and he laughs.

“Let’s get this over with and maybe not too many cameras will be on us. Pretty likely, with these outfits.”

“We’re not as badly dressed as the District 12s, though,” I point out; the boy and girl from 12 look miserable dressed in short jumpsuits with headlamps strapped to their heads.  
“I think we’re lucky,” Cabel says, and we laugh.

I look around the room, which is huge. Some tributes have better costumes than others; for example, the girl from 2 is dressed all in gold with a ring of gold leaves around her head. She’s laughing with some other tributes, the boy and girl from 1. They’re dressed almost identically in purple outfits covered in gemstones.

The really pretty girl from 3 is dressed in a sort of metallic, geometric shaped dress that’s also lit up. District 3, technology.

“Come on, time to go! Up into the chariot you two!” says Fabian, coming over to us. I shoot an alarmed look at Cabel before he calmly steps up into the chariot and gives me a hand up too. All around us the other tributes are getting into position, facing the big doors.

“The horses are trained to go around; you won’t have to control them at all. Enjoy, and don’t forget to smile!” says Cabel’s stylist. I give a look back at the four of them, Fabian, Lexa, and the two stylists. I don’t like any of them.

“Ready?” Cabel asks.

I nod.

The doors open and the District 1s step out. Then the 2s, the 3s, the 4s, the 5s…

“Hold onto me. Let’s look good for Mum,” Cabel says.

And the horses step out of the stables into the cheering crowd.


	11. The Tribute Parade

** Terra Coppersmith **

Apparently, orange is Postumius’ color for this year, because he has not taken it off since the reapings. While I’m up in the chariot behind these pretty gold horses, he’s prancing around with a drink in his hand by our mentors. The victor who chose me is Shuttle Caries, who won maybe four, five years ago? Somewhere in there. She’s still strong looking and capable, which is good. I’ll need that to get through the next weeks.

Fletcher next to me looks over and shoots me a nervous grin. “Ready for this?” We’re dressed in the same blue tunic with a flowing purple cape flying out behind us. In my hair my stylist, Damius, has put an old-fashioned weaving shuttle. District 8 textiles, you know. 

I nod my head briefly. I’ve got to make a good impression, for Iry. And Deecey; both of them are going to be watching tonight, watching me. I can’t let them down for a second.  
Fletcher’s mentor, Woven, clinks a glass of something together with Shuttle. Postumius is still raving about something, and the others are visibly tolerating him. Fletcher snorts.

“What an idiot,” he says.

“I always said he was the best thing about the reapings,” I say.

I look back and see the tributes from District 9 right behind us. The little girl looks terrified, dressed in a thin gold shift with a crown of grain on her head. Her partner is dressed very similar. 

“What’s her name?” I mutter to Fletcher, jerking my head back a little.

“Catalina, isn’t it? I think that’s what the screen said.”

I nod, thinking to myself. Poor little kid; she’s the smallest of all the tributes, I think. She’s not going to last long in the arena.

“Right, this is it,” Fletcher says, and we start to move forward in the chariot, moving closer to the doors and out to the citadel. I keep my eyes on the District 7 chariot, especially on the girl with the wild red hair.

Then we’re out, and we’re on the largest screens I’ve ever seen, plastered all over the city. The Capitol people cheer and scream our names, which they’ve actually bothered to remember. 

I smile and wave to them, moving so quickly past the crowd that I can’t focus on single people. That’s fine with me; when we were pulling into the station this morning, I saw a man with oversize eyes and glittering teeth. Since seeing him I have no urge to look at the Capitol citizens too closely.

Someone is throwing flowers from the audience and one falls by my feet in the chariot. A daisy. I reach down, wobbling slightly in the moving chariot, and pick it up. Just keep smiling for the cameras, I think, and I do. Beside me, Fletcher waves at the crowd on his side.

The red headed tribute ahead of us is waving too, and she’s caught a flower in her hand. Her hair is certainly striking; it might get her some sponsors. I’ll just have to come up with my own angle for these Games.

The chariot moves fast, the horses keeping at a single speed the whole way around. The people cheer on either side, and the whole thing strikes me as bizarre; most of us are going to be dead in a week and they’re all cheering for our silly outfits. 

Finally, we come to the end of the parade, right at the president’s mansion in the City Circle. Our horses arrange themselves automatically, and we wait to hear what the president has to say.

He comes out, radiating power. I’ve never seen him before, except on the screens at home. He adjusts his microphone and says, “Welcome, brave tributes to the 36th Hunger Games! We applaud your bravery and daring, and I personally hope you make yourselves at home here in the Capitol, however temporary it may be. And tributes: may the odds be ever in your favor.”

He smiles, gives a wave, and the crowd erupts into applause. As if on cue, the horses start up again, keeping in the same numbered order as we came in. We pull into another stabled area, and the doors shut behind us. Damius and Fletcher’s stylist, Emmie, are waiting for us and help us get down off of the chariot. All around us the other tributes are doing the same.

“Oh, well done!” Postumius cries, running towards us but tripping over his own feet. I can tell by looking at him that he’s quite drunk, but that doesn’t temper his enthusiasm.  
“Beautiful! Lovely tributes!” he says, then falls over sideways. Shuttle rolls her eyes.

“Who hired him as an escort, I don’t know. Woven, help me get him. And you two, follow us,” she says, grabbing one of Postumius’ arms. His head lolls backwards as Woven picks up his other arm and the two mentors start to half carry, half drag him along. Fletcher and I exchange a quick look, then follow after them. What I wouldn’t give to tell Iry and Deecey about this; they would howl.

“Where are we going?” I ask, ignoring the other tributes who are staring at us as we trot along behind our unconscious escort.

“Training Center,” Damius says. 

We get to a set of elevators which slide open in front of us automatically. “Press the number of your district; that’s your floor. Easy enough,” Shuttle says, leaning Postumius against the wall. My stomach drops as we launch upwards; the elevator is much, much faster than the train. Once I get my stomach back, I’m thrilled at the ride. It stops gradually, then the doors slide open.

“Welcome home,” Woven says, picking up half of Postumius, and together she and Shuttle drag him into the apartment and dump him unceremoniously on a couch.

“Wow,” I say, stepping out of the elevator myself. The whole place is beautiful; stone walls and thick carpets, covered in tapestries and paintings alike. One wall is opaque glass, and running over it is a waterfall, bordered by bushy ferns. Being from District 8, I’ve never seen most plants, let alone ferns myself, but I’ve seen them in previous Games.

Alright, I can do this. I can eat well and live comfortably for a week. I look over to see Fletcher staring at the room with the same amount of awe that I’m feeling.

“Come on, let’s watch the recap of the parade,” Woven says, sitting down on another couch across from our drunk escort. I eye him carefully as I settle myself down on a plush grey chair. 

We all watch the parade in relative silence. Some costumes are better than others, such as the gold dusted tributes from District 11 versus the District 10 tributes dressed as cows, complete with bells around their necks. The girl from 10 isn’t pretty already, but her moronic costume makes it even worse.

Fletcher and I look half decent on camera, thankfully. I wonder what everyone at home is thinking about it. I hope Iry isn’t too upset about me being gone. I hope Mrs. Underfall is taking good care of her. I know she is, but still.

Once the president has stopped talking, Shuttle turns off the television. “Tomorrow you’ll start training downstairs. Go to all the stations, especially the edible foods one. I’ve seen too many tributes die because they ate something they thought was alright, but turned out to be poison. So, do that.”

“Any other instructions, madam?” Fletcher asks, putting his arm over the back of the chair he’s sitting in and stretching.

“Don’t be cheeky,” Shuttle says, but she’s smiling. “See if you can get some allies or, if you prefer to go it alone, don’t. Get some sleep now; training starts at 10 tomorrow.”

A man all in red comes and quietly escorts me to another room down the hall. “Thank you,” I say, and he nods and scurries off. Odd.

The door slides open at my touch and closes once I’ve stepped into my room. My room alone is bigger than my whole house in District 8. I can’t help running around looking at everything. Against one wall is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen; as big as two or three of the beds at home put together. I jump onto it and turn a somersault, landing on a soft fur coverlet.

Sitting up and pushing my hair off my face, my attention next turns to a machine standing close by the bed, a few feet away from the nightstand on my left. Rolling across the rest of the bed, I jump off and walk over to this mystery machine.

Odd, there’s a microphone indicator on it. What do I do with it? As a joke I lean in and say, “Pink bread,” like Iry has always talked about wanting. A few seconds later, a small pink loaf of bread appears on a tray from the machine. My jaw drops open. The possibilities that this machine suggests are endless. I ask for an orange, which I’ve always wanted to try, and I peel it while walking around the room.

The wardrobe has a screen where I can program it to give me clothes that I would actually want to wear. Postumius’ wardrobe must have a breakdown every morning, what with the orange suits and all.

When I tap on the windows in different places, they zoom in and out on the city; I amuse myself for several minutes while I finish my orange by following a particularly twitchy woman with pink ringlets while she walks down the street.

In the bathroom there’s a shower that has a panel full of buttons; I don’t dare try it now while I’m tired. Back out in the bedroom area there’s a television, which I have no interest in turning on because of the Capitol propaganda that’s always playing; several couches that are more bouncy than comfortable, and a large pink fluffy ottoman that I decide I’m very fond of.

I program the wardrobe to give me pajamas, which come out fleecy and warm. I clamber into the high, soft bed, into the sheets that are just as soft and fluffy as the coverlet. I pass my hand over a sensor on the wall and the light goes off. The day has been so long and the bed is so comfortable that I sink into sleep almost immediately.


	12. The Smallest Tribute

** Catalina Nightwind **

The banging on the door wakes me up out of a sound sleep. I don’t want to get up, don’t want to go down to the Training Center today. I want to go home, but I can’t. I want to ignore the knocking, but then there’s Miri Pola talking, “Let’s go, Catalina! It’s a big day for you!”

I groan but I force myself out of bed. I’m so short that getting off the bed is a feat in itself, and I fall about a foot or so to the ground. I wonder what my family is doing, and what they thought of last night. Ornam and I were dressed in gold with a grain styled hat for the opening ceremonies. Solara, my stylist, and Jupiter, Ornam’s stylist, were both very kind to us.

My father told me before I left to listen to my mentor, and she has turned out to be Arla Reaper, who won the sixth Hunger Games. She’s older now, of course, but I haven’t seen her without a drink in hand yet. She hasn’t been very helpful so far. Ornam’s mentor, Ripple, is a very tall and fierce man, and he scares me.

Thinking of my family hurts; of Challah who sleeps alone now, of my parents who are waiting for me to come back. It feels like a knife is thrust in my chest. I want to go home. But I can’t, not now. Not yet.

I decide to head into the bathroom, since I still have some glitter on my face and in my hair from yesterday. One of the things I like about the Capitol is the shower buttons; I made it cover me in pink and purple bubbles and it made me laugh. With another button they were washed all away, leaving me dripping wet but clear of bubbles.

Once I get out, it dries me automatically and even detangles my hair like magic. On the wall hangs a fluffy white robe. Putting it on, I walk back out to the main room to find an outfit laid out for me; a black short sleeved shirt and black leggings. On the floor is a pair of lace up boots. I take the robe off and put on the outfit, which fits me perfectly. 

Coming out and walking into the dining room, I see everyone gathered around the table already. Miri has a little mirror out and she’s touching up her makeup here and there. 

Meanwhile, Arla isn’t touching her breakfast, preferring to sip clear liquid from a small glass and stare unfocused out the window; Ripple is buttering a piece of toast beside Ornam, who is eating a fancy looking bun.

“Come, sit!” Miri says, clicking her mirror shut and patting the chair next to her. As I go to sit down, I see that Ornam is dressed almost the same as me; he’s wearing a dark red top instead of black, though.

Everyone is pretty quiet, and the atmosphere is tense. I quietly take a bun and some eggs and put them on my plate. A girl in red pours a cup of tea for me, and I thank her. She nods and hurries off without a word. 

“What’s going to happen today?” I ask in a quiet voice. Arla keeps looking out the window.

“Arla?”

“What?” she snaps, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes are very, very unfocused. 

“What do I do today?”

“I don’t care. Go down and have fun,” she snaps, taking another drink from the glass.

“Aren’t you supposed to help me figure out strategies and stuff?” I ask.

“Why should I care? I don’t want to be here any more than you do. Just, go off and let me alone,” Arla says, slurring her words at the end.

“Go sleep it off, Arla,” Ripple says, finally putting down his toast.

“Well if you’re going to be so mean,” Arla says, and stumbles away from the table, taking a bottle of clear liquid with her. Ornam and I both turn to watch her go. Somewhere a door slams. I look at Ripple.

“What do we do?” I ask him.

He takes a bite of his toast, chews a moment, then says, “I’ll mentor you both. Arla isn’t fit for the duty I don’t think.”

“Why is she like that?” I say, picking up my cup of tea and blowing on it.

“Her Games were rough,” is all he says.

We all eat in an awkward silence before Ripple says, “When you go down, try to do some things you’ve never done before. Get some lessons in swordsmanship and archery, tie some knots. Got it?”

I nod. Miri says, “Well, eat up! We have to go down in ten minutes or you two will be late!” Ornam pushes his chair back from the table.

“I’m ready now. And we don’t need you to come with us.”

“But!” Miri starts, but Ripple chimes in.

“They’re not babies. They can take an elevator down to the gymnasium without getting lost, can’t you?” he says, looking pointedly at us. I nod quickly, not wanting to make anyone mad.

“Let’s go,” Ornam says. I’m not done my breakfast, but I take the bun with me and follow my partner to the elevator. As we leave I can hear Miri and Ripple start to argue.

“She’s just a little girl!” Miri says, getting cut off by Ripple.

“If she’s old enough to get reaped, she’s old enough to go down an elevator. Just stop talking, Miri.”

Then Ornam pulls me into the elevator and we drop down so fast it takes my breath away. Once we are alone together, he ignores me and looks out the clear windows of the elevator instead.

The doors open to a large gymnasium deep underground. Almost all the tributes are already assembled in the middle of the room; the girl from 1 gives me a nasty look. I’m trying to walk like I’m brave and strong, but the truth is that I’m terrified. Everyone is taller than me, even the other twelve-year old from 3.

Ornam and I take our places in the circle; I’m beside the boy from 10; he’s dark and not that tall. Definitely not as tall as the boy from 5 with the red hair.

The last two tributes come in; the boy and girl from 6, the siblings. As they take their places in the circle, a man steps up, wearing all black and a serious expression.

“I am the head trainer, Titus. At each station here there is an expert in that field who will be willing to teach you. Fighting with other tributes is strictly prohibited; if you wish to practice with somebody, there are assistants on hand. You are free to go from station from station.”

With that, everyone scatters. I don’t go anywhere for a moment, just look at the other tributes. The girl from 2 goes right for the swords, laughing with her district partner and the girl from 4. An alliance is obviously being made there.

Meanwhile, the girl and boy from 7 go for the archery station, and the boy from 8 starts throwing knives at a target.

I turn my attention to the camouflage station; nobody else is there. I look around for Ornam, but he’s gone straight for the knife station too. So I head over to the camouflage station, with all its paints and materials. 

Twenty minutes later, the assistant and I have managed to paint my arm into a field of flowers that look real. I smile at him, my first real smile since I left home. “Thank you!” I say.

“You’re welcome. Would you like to wash it off before you go to another station?”

“No thank you. I like the flowers.”

I go over to the knot tying station next; I’m not ready to handle the weapons yet. The assistant helps me here too, and every once in a while, I look down at my arm and smile at the flowers.

After I’ve been practicing my knots for a while, I jump a little when I notice there’s someone next to me. It’s the girl from 3.

“Hi,” she says shyly. “I’m Summer.”

“I’m Cat,” I say.

“Nice flowers,” Summer says, gesturing to my arm. I smile a little.

“Thank you.”

“I haven’t been at any of the weapons stations yet, and I’m nervous to go by myself. Want to go with me?” she asks, tilting her head to where the bigger tributes are training. I nod. Summer breaks out into a smile.

“Let’s go, then!” She offers me her hand and helps me up, and we walk over to the knives station together.

I think I might have an ally going in to the Games.


	13. Nobody Better

** Dexsia Greentree **

“I can do better than that!” I laugh, hoisting the sword up again.

“I’d like to see you try!” Velvet says, pointing his own sword at me. We’ve been at the same station for more than an hour now, and I have no interest in leaving. Treasure and Cossus headed off a while ago to practice some archery, leaving me and the other two of our alliance here.

“Let’s go, Dex!” Calypso says, leaning on her own sword that’s pointing down to the ground.

“Alright then, watch me,” I say, stepping into the darker room in front of me and pressing the button that activates the training sequence. A bunch of hologram people start running at me with swords; I parry them off and stab the first in the stomach, the second in the arm. Ducking and rolling, I come up and stab the third figure in the leg, then again through the head.

Four come at once; I decapitate two and take off the arms of the others; I slash and stab and by the time the minute is up, all of the pretend assailants are dead.

Calypso claps her hands slowly and says, “You’re right, Dex, you can do it better.”

“I’ll go in then, and I’ll show you how you should really do it!” Velvet says, pushing past me. He’s arrogant, but he’s strong. He’s also a valuable ally. In the alliance that we’ve created it’s Velvet and Treasure from 1, Cossus and I, and Calypso from 4. Calypso’s district partner, Mica, is too much of a weakling for us to bother with him. We tried to recruit the two strong eighteen-year olds from 5, but they’ve banded together and keep looking over at us with scowls.

No matter; we’ll have strength in numbers. It’s almost amusing to see how many of the others are incompetent; like the boy from 3. He tried to come over earlier and try the swords, but he couldn’t even pick one up he’s so weak. We almost died laughing and he scuttled away to the slingshot area. Like a slingshot is going to save him! Not likely!

“I’m bored,” Calypso says once Velvet comes back out of the training session. “Let’s go throw some axes; it looks like fun.”

“I’ll catch up with you,” Velvet says, turning back to the sword simulation again. I follow along after Calypso, leaving my sword on the rack. District 7 is already there at the axe station, and they move over slightly to let us through. Calypso gives them a dirty look.

I’m not as good throwing axes as I am with a sword; Aulus and I mainly worked on swordsmanship, but sometimes he would get me throwing knives at a target. I can get a solid stick with the axe, but it’s far from being my best weapon.

A bell goes off, signalling the beginning of lunch. My alliance all meets up as we walk over, and we pull tables together in the lunch hall so we can eat together. Our group is definitely the biggest, but there’s a couple other alliances that I see coming together. The two twelve-year olds are sitting together at one table, and of course the siblings from 6 are sitting together; Kouza and Alyss, the two eighteen- year olds who rejected us are grouped, too. Everyone else is sitting alone.

“What should we do after lunch?” I ask, picking up a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table.

“I’m going to go to the spears,” Cossus says; Velvet immediately says that he’ll join him.

“I’m going to head over to learn some stuff about edible plants,” Calypso says. Treasure laughs.

“We’re going to have so much supplies in the arena that we’re not going to have to eat plants!”

“What if I want a salad?” Calypso says, and we all laugh.

“Go get your salad,” I say. “I’m headed for fire making. I want to be warm and not have to depend on you guys for a bonfire.”

“What, don’t you trust us?” Velvet asks.

“For fire making? No way!”

“We’re going to have matches; you don’t need to learn that!” Treasure says.

“I want to hit all the stations, just to say I did,” I say.

“Have fun with that; you can be the indispensable one,” Cossus says, and we laugh again, even though it’s not very funny.

Once lunch is over I go over to the fire starting station. The lady there is very friendly and helps me learn to start a fire using flint. It takes about a half hour, but I finally succeed. “Thank you!” I say. “I’ll practice that again tomorrow.” Then I wander off looking for the rest of my group. I have no interest in seeing what plants I can eat, so I make my way over to spears.

I arrive just as Velvet sends a spear through the heart of two dummies in a row. “Well done,” I say, clapping. 

“Can you do better?” he says, smirking. 

“Let’s see, shall we?”

I get one of the assistants to show me how to hold the spear properly, then I take a practice throw. The spear clatters on the ground, nowhere near a target. Velvet laughs.

“Having trouble, Dex?”

“Shut up, I’m just learning this,” I say, picking up another spear. I’m irritated at his words, so I send the second spear flying without really looking at the target; by some miracle I manage to hit one of the dummies in the back, making me look better than the luck that it was.

“See? I can do it,” I say smugly, and I head off to find Treasure. 

I finally spot her doing the obstacle course; for a ditzy airhead like she is, she’s pretty good at jumping. I have no interest in the obstacle course, though, not today, so I head back to the swords and spar with an assistant until the final bell rings, signaling for us to go back to our floors.

We all get into the same elevator to go up, not letting any of the other tributes in, except for Calypso’ district partner. He looks at us with a frightened look on his face. 

“Bye!” Treasure says as the doors open on the first floor and let her and Velvet out. The second floor is, of course, mine and Cossus’. 

“See you tomorrow,” I say to Calypso, ignoring Mica completely.

“See you!” she says as the doors close behind us.

Aulus and Victoria are waiting in the living room; Aulus has a small glass of something he’s sipping from. “Well?” Victoria asks. “Did you get in an alliance?”

“We’ve got District 1 and the girl from 4,” Cossus says, taking a seat beside his mentor.

“How’re you compared with the others with your sword?” Aulus asks as I take a seat on a wide white chair. 

“Nobody’s better,” I tell him, and he smiles.

“That’s my girl.”

“Alright, you have one and a half more days of training before your private sessions. Make them count,” Victoria says.

“We went to the swords station, the spear station, and archery station,” Cossus says, suddenly very serious.

“Well, he went to archery. I did axes and built a fire,” I say.

“Good! It’s not all flashy stuff, you know,” Aulus says. “Build a fire, do the edible plants, knots, all those things. You don’t know what you’ll find in the arena.”

“Plants, knots, got it,” I say.

Titia clacks in then in some very sharp high heels. Once she gets past the stone by the front door she sinks into the deep carpet and has to do a sort of strange tugging dance to get her shoes out of the rug.

“Supper is ready!” she says cheerfully, backing up out of the rug and nearly falling over backward. Luckily for her, the dining room is hardwood.

“Excellent, I’m hungry,” I say and follow Titia into the dining room after she gets her footing again.

Served tonight is a round and juicy piece of meat, topped with herbs, with mashed potatoes and carrots in a sweet, sugary sauce on the side. I’ve never been hungry at home, and our food is likely better than almost everywhere else in Panem, but I’ve never had food as good as what they serve here in the Capitol.

Joining us tonight are the stylists; Cossus’ stylist, Julia, and my stylist, Catullus. Catullus is very quiet, very calm; he hasn’t altered himself as much as some other people I’ve seen here in the Capitol. He’s only inlaid blue jewels in his cheeks, and outlined his brown eyes in electric blue.

On the other hand, Julia has been dyed bright pink, has three-inch long talons decorated with gold and sparkles, and her lips are twice the size they should be. Frankly, she scares me. She and Titia get along well, talking about really nothing at all, which they’re both interested in.

Aulus sets his glass down heavily and my head whips towards him. “Let’s talk strategy,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “So you have allies, that’s excellent. At least for a while you won’t have to worry about the other tributes; you’ll have strength in numbers. Just don’t get stabbed in the back while you’re in the alliance.”

“So, in the arena?” Cossus says, folding his hands under his chin and leaning in on his elbows.

“You get in there, you head for the Cornucopia. Other tributes are going to scatter; some are going to head for the hills, some will go for the Cornucopia too. You’re going to kill the ones who go for the Cornucopia, the ones not in the alliance. Then, you get the supplies and you hang onto it. There’s a reason it’s called the Hunger Games.”

“After that, listen to your alliance and kill them before they kill you,” Victoria adds. I shoot a sideways glance at Cossus. I don’t fancy killing him myself, so I hope that someone else will take him out for me. It’ll just be easier.

I put the last mouthful of meat and potatoes into my mouth and almost automatically one of the red clothed girls takes it away and replaces it with a cake that’s made of ice cream, decorated in ice cream flowers and swirls. It’s beautiful.

“Thank you,” I say, and she moves off silently.

“Why don’t they talk?” I ask. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard one of them speak. And why are they all dressed alike?”

Aulus and Victoria exchange a look. The rest of the table goes quiet. “What?” I ask.

“They’re Avoxes. They had their tongues cut out because they were traitors to the Capitol,” Catullus says finally. 

“That’s awful! I couldn’t stand it if someone did that to me!” I say, taken aback.

“Don’t be a traitor then,” Aulus says and swiftly changes the subject.

I’m still horrified, though. Imagine going through life without your tongue! Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore, but I force myself to swallow down the ice cream anyway. I can’t be seen to be weak, not here in front of Aulus and Cossus.

As soon as I can, I excuse myself to my room. I sit on a soft chair by the window and pull my knees up, wrapping my hands around them. I’m disturbed by the Avoxes and their lack of tongues, and by the fact that they have to serve me. If I did something the Capitol didn’t like, would they cut out my tongue too?

I wave off the suggestion. They must have done something truly terrible to deserve becoming Avoxes. They probably deserved it.

Reassured, I get up and climb into bed after changing into a pair of white pajamas. The lights go out and I settle in for a restful night. The sheets are smooth and soft and the cover is warm.

The Avoxes with their missing tongues still haunt my thoughts, well into the haze that comes before sleep.


	14. Above the Training Floor

** Dove Rosestar **

“There, you’ve almost got it,” Cabel says as I try to finish the snare we’ve been working on for a solid half hour. He hasn’t left my side for the whole time we’ve been training, which is reassuring, but also a little smothering sometimes. Still, I’m glad to have him here with me.

It feels like I’ve been in the Capitol for years, but it’s only been a few days since the reapings. Can it only be three days since I was home? Time is stretching and bending in ways I didn’t think it could. Today is the second day of training, and I’m growing nervous about what I’m going to show the Gamemakers tomorrow in my private session.

“There!” I say, finishing the trap. The assistant springs it, showing that it could would catch something.

“Good job,” Cabel says, smiling. “What do you want to do now?”

“I want to try the spears,” I say.

“Alright,” Cabel says, getting up. I follow him over to the spear station, trying to ignore the looks of the other tributes we pass. I feel self conscious about always having to tag along after my brother. It’s not like there aren’t other allies here; there’s the Career pack who are usually in groups of two or more. But it’s not the same as Cabel and me.

I catch up to Cabel and grab his sleeve. “Cabel,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Everybody’s looking at us; I think we should split up for a little while. Until after lunch.”

“Why?” Cabel asks, confused.

“I don’t want to be seen as weak.”

“Some of the others are together; the two little girls haven’t left each other all day.”

“It’s different for us; we’re going to stand out because we’re siblings no matter what,” I say. “I just want to try something by myself for a little while. I’ll be okay; nobody’s going to hurt me.”

Cabel hesitates. “Okay. We’ll regroup at lunch. Have fun,” he says. I can tell he’s not completely happy about it, but I don’t care for right now. I can go and be on my own for a little while! I’m so close to my brother, but I need to be just Dove sometimes.

I completely bypass the wrestling floor and the weight-lifting station; I’ll never be able to do either of those. The boy from District 1 is wrestling with an assistant right now; he scares me a bit because he’s huge. Bigger than me, anyway. Of course, most of the boys are bigger than me.

“Want to try climbing some ropes?” an assistant asks, making me jump. I look up at the web of ropes on the ceiling, and I nod.

Finally, something I’m decent at. I climb hand over hand up a knotted rope, pushing my way up with my legs on the knots, until I reach the web at the top. I pull myself up into it and balance myself in the netted rope. I can see the whole training floor from up here; Cabel is talking with the tall boy from 8 at the spear station. Over at the hand to hand combat the really big and scary boy from 5 is training with an assistant; the Career pack is standing around the swords laughing about something. 

I clamber around in the ropes for a while; it’s so much fun to know that nobody can see me up here except for the assistant down below. If there’s a netted ceiling in the arena, I’ll be sure to win. 

I’ve been trying to keep the idea of the Games out of my head. All the tributes down below, they’ll all have to die if Cabel or I are going to get out. I’m still counting on the idea that both he and I can win together. We have to! It’ll kill me either way, whether I come out alone or not. I need Cabel.

There’s too much time to think in the netting, so I slip through one of the holes onto a rope and shimmy down. I drop onto the grey floor of the gymnasium and thank the assistant before moving on to the next station.

Over at the knives there’s only one other tribute, the dark haired girl from 12. She’s very shaky with the knife she’s holding, and as I approach, she throws it, not even managing to hit a target. The knife clatters onto the floor.

She looks at me, scared. I don’t pay her any mind, instead turning to the assistant standing by. “Can you teach me how to throw?”

She nods and comes over. For the next hour she teaches me how to hold the knife, how to stand, and how to throw. The girl from 12 watches her every movement with wide eyes. Just before the bell rings for lunch, I hit the board with the knife. I feel like jumping up and down but I keep myself calm and collected. I can’t stop the grin that’s spreading across my face, though.

“Nice work,” Cabel says, coming up behind me. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah,” I say, handing the other knives in my hand to the assistant.

There’s a buffet line of food, and we tributes all line up in district order. Someone hands me a tray and I put food at random onto it. Cabel goes to save a table for us, and once I reach the end of the line, I join him.

“What did you get?” Cabel asks. I finally look down at my tray; I chose a rice and meat stew, with roasted potatoes with herbs and some peas in a buttery sauce. 

“Good food. What did you do so far today?” I ask.

“Spears mostly. What about you?”

“I did the ropes course, and I worked on knives for about an hour.”

A large peal of laughter comes from the Career table; they’re all sitting together again. Everyone else is scattered, with a few exceptions. The Careers are clearly trying to be the most intimidating group out of all of us.

“The girl from 12 is watching you,” Cabel says quietly. I turn my head a little just in time to see her whip her head the other way.

“I don’t want her as an ally. Just you and me,” I tell Cabel. If she’s that shaky with a knife, what else can she not do? She’ll be gone within a few days.

“We’ll be fine,” Cabel says, and he says it so confidently that I believe him. We have to be okay in the arena. What choice do we have?

We stay quiet for the rest of lunch, lost in our own thoughts. After awhile the bell rings again, signalling the end of lunch. Everyone rises at the same time, leaving the trays on the tables.

“Go throw some more knives?” I ask Cabel. He nods.

“Let’s go then.”


	15. The Girl with the Bow and Arrows

** Terra Coppersmith **

I notch an arrow to my bow and aim it at the target 10 feet away. _Breathe in, breathe out._ I focus on the target, and I let the arrow fly. It hits the side of the board and I let the bow fall to my side. Getting closer.

I’ve been spending the last two days here in the archery station, being coached by one of the trainers. I want to- no I need to- get good enough to show the Gamemakers tomorrow that I’m a contestant in these Games, that I won’t go down without a fight.

Still, in the last two days I haven’t come closer than hitting the side of the board with the arrow. The trainer keeps assuring me that it’s actually very good for someone who’s just learning how to shoot a bow and arrow, but it’s not enough. Frustrated, I throw the bow to the floor and storm off.

I make my way over to the shelter building station, where the girl and boy from 11 are weaving together mats. They look harmless, and I’m tired of wearing myself out shooting arrows, so I go and sit next to them. They look at me but don’t talk, which suits me fine. The trainer starts showing me how to construct a shelter out of sticks and leaves. 

While I put it up against some pretend trees standing by, I scan the gymnasium for what my competitors are up to. The Careers have moved from the swords that they were at this morning over to the obstacle course; one of them, the girl from 4, topples over and they all laugh at her. That bunch is my most fierce competition in the Games, or one of them. The tributes from District 5 are throwing axes alongside the boy from 7. Despite him being from 7, the other two are much more accurate.

I step back and look at the rough shelter that I’ve created. The trainer nods his approval at it. “If you make one of those in the arena it’ll keep the weather off at least.”

“Excellent,” I say, leaving that station and the District 11 tributes behind. I visit the edible plants for a little while; I’m not expecting to have much in the way of supplies and I don’t want to kill myself with poison berries. I’ve seen it happen in previous Games. I shudder at the edible insects, though; no matter how hungry I am I don’t think I could be persuaded to eat beetles.

I try out most of the other stations throughout the afternoon; I learn a twitch-up snare at the knots station; the instructor seemed very happy to see me. Besides the edible bugs, I think the knots station is the least visited. 

After knots, I practice hand to hand combat with an assistant; I’m not the best but I’m not the worst. I get distracted watching the boy from 1 stab a dummy in the stomach and rip up, sending sand and stuffing everywhere. His district partner laughs and high fives him. 

Abruptly I leave the assistant standing with a sword, handing off my own, and I walk back to the archery station. I go and pick up a bow from the rack, slinging a quiver over my shoulder. The assistant standing there backs up and just watches as I notch the arrow, aim, and let it fly.

It hits about an inch over from where I hit the target previously. I breath out hard. Closer. I whip out another arrow and just as I’m letting it fly the bell rings, signalling the end of the second day of training. We’ll only have tomorrow morning to train before the private sessions.

My arrow hits nowhere near the board. I place my bow on the rack and head for the elevator. Of course, the Careers claim the elevator first, shoving everyone else out. We have to wait for them to get out before we can get in, a few tribute partners at a time.

Fletcher comes up behind me, touching my shoulder as he joins me. “How was today?” he asks.

“Fine, how was yours?”

“I can throw a spear fairly well,” he says. He grins with a cocky smile, and I understand why Deecey liked him so much. I think about this and my filter drops without my intending it to.

“You know, my friend Deecey always liked you,” I blurt out. He raises his right eyebrow.

“Pretty girl, shorter, always had her hair in a thousand different braids?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He doesn’t say anything more until we get into our elevator alongside the District 12s and get off on our floor.

“Did you get allies?” is the first thing Shuttle asks when we walk into the living room. I look at Fletcher, who shakes his head.

“No; nobody is willing to team up with anyone.”

“Terra?”

“I’m going solo,” I say. Shuttle breaths out noisily and looks out the window.

“Alright then, we’ve got some solo operators. Woven, get out here,” she calls. 

Woven comes out from one of the bedrooms, which I’m assuming is hers. I’ve been having a fantastic time every night playing around with the different gadgets in my room. Last night I asked for hot buns and peppermints, and both were granted within a few seconds. The shower water can change color with the touch of a button, and it even sprays you down with good smelling perfume before you get out. I’ve smelled of vanilla and marshmallow all day. But I digress.

“What did you learn? And are you two comfortable talking about it in front of each other?” Woven asks. Again, Fletcher and I exchange glances. We’ve been trained together up until this point, and it doesn’t really matter if we know each others’ strengths. We’ve been keeping an eye on each other for the past two days.

“I don’t care,” I say.

“We can talk, I’m fine,” Fletcher says, sitting on the edge of a chair.

“Alright, so what did you learn?”

“I threw some spears and, as per your instructions, I learned how to build a fire,” Fletcher says.

“I went back to the archery station and practiced some more, but I also built a shelter, did some snares, and did some combat fighting,” I say, coming to sit down as well. I’m tired from today.

“Excellent. We’ll talk strategy over supper,” Shuttle says, dismissing us. As I get up to go to my room to get changed, Postumius weaves his way out of his bedroom and down the hall towards us. He’s obviously been drinking again, or is still suffering the effects of the six glasses of wine he drank over supper last night. He got very unconscious very fast, and the mentors had to put him on the couch again.

“Hello, tributes! Welcome home!” he says, leaning against a wall and smiling a little too widely. His orange clothes look a bit dishevelled, and his hair hasn’t been combed today. I’m guessing he’s still under last night’s wine effects.

“You there!” he says in a sharper tone, snapping his fingers at one of the Capitol attendants, “Get me some water, will you?”

He looks a bit unsteady, so I get up and guide him by the arm over to an unoccupied chair. “I’m alright, don’t you worry! And we’ll get you to the place you need to be on time!”

Shuttle looks over and me with laughter in her eyes. They’re right; what an absolute idiot Postumius is. I doubt he’ll be back next year; District 8 needs a better escort for sure.

Once the Capitol attendant comes over with the escort’s glass of water, I go to my room and change out of my training clothes, into a fawn orange blouse and black leggings. I run my fingers through my curls, trying to detangle them. When my grandmother was still alive, she would braid my hair like how Deecey had hers, but since she died, I’ve just been letting it loose. 

Flopping back onto the soft blankets, I stare out the window at the Capitol with its bright colors. Slowly, the daylight fades and is replaced by the shining lights of the buildings around, and by the streets below. They’ll never want for anything here, not clothing or light or food. 

“Terra!” Damius calls; I launch myself off the bed and rush into the other room. Good, I’m starving. The red clothed servants are setting platters of food down and filling up goblets.

“Why can’t I have wine?” Postumius is whining as I sit down.

“Because you turn into a completely useless human being,” Woven says, and I stifle a laugh. It’s like when Deecey and I were laughing at Postumius at the reapings. I miss her and Iry so much.

For a little while I tune out of the conversation, only focusing on the beautiful food: fish with a lemon and garlic sauce; long green beans in butter and garlic; rice that’s all different colors and has a rich, brothy taste. I eat as much as I can; I’ll need it in the arena.

“Right, so tomorrow is the day of your private sessions,” Shuttle says, and I tune back in.

“Terra, I want you to go in and work on archery, since that’s apparently what you’ve chosen. Impress the Gamemakers; stand out. They want a show.” Shuttle looks at Woven, who clears her throat.

“Fletcher, spears for you. I want you to have a high score, but not too high that the others target you right away. Throw some spears, and anything else you think you’re getting really good at. Got it?” she says. Fletcher nods.

“What happens after tomorrow?” I ask. The attendants take away my plate and replace it with another which holds a slice of chocolate cake oozing chocolate sauce. 

“We’ll come to that when we get past these private sessions. Remember, these can make or break you,” Shuttle says, picking up her own fork and slicing off a piece of cake.

“We’ll handle the days after,” Emmie says. I like Fletcher’s stylist; she’s pretty and not altered in horrifying ways like some of the other people I’ve seen here. Blonde hair, blue eyes, with pink and gold tattoos snaking their ways up her arms. A butterfly is tattooed on her cheek, and even though I hate the alterations in the Capitol, I can’t help but like that bejeweled butterfly.

After dessert, Woven pushes her chair back. “Get some sleep,” she says. “I want you well-rested for tomorrow.” Like good little tributes, we comply, even though it’s still early.

I don’t go to sleep, though. I sit on that ottoman by the window and look down at the streets below. Every once in a while, I see someone I want to zoom in on, and I follow them down the street. But mostly, I think of home.

What is Iry doing now? How hard is she taking this? I wish I could talk to her, or send her a message that I’m okay. Suddenly, I remember what comes after the private sessions: the interviews. I’ll send her a message then, and she and Deecey and Deecey’s mother will all see it. They’ll know that I’m okay. Maybe I can even keep doing it in the arena, when there’s nobody around. I miss them so much it hurts.

My room has a little chill, so I adjust the temperature with the dial on the wall. Immediately the temperature rises to a more comfortable warmth, and I go back to my seat by the window.

I long for home, for the streets and the crowded District that I was raised in. No matter how many gadgets and how much wonderful food there might be, I still want to get home to my little house with the extra window. To take care of my sister. I promised I would win for her; I’m not going to let her down now. I have to win.

I regret Fletcher, who sits in his own room now, I’m guessing. He’s really a decent character, and I hate to see him killed. I hope I don’t have to kill him.

Finally my eyes start to droop, so I get some pajamas out of the wardrobe and climb into my soft bed. The day has been so long and I’ve worked so hard that I’m gone almost instantly.


	16. The Third Morning

** Catalina Nightwind **

My hands shake as I throw the knife at the target; it clatters to the floor nowhere near the wall. “You’ll get it, don’t worry,” Summer says. Over the past two days, we’ve become not only allies but friends. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met; I think my family would like her too. She’s the one really good thing about coming to the Capitol.

“We’ll get it, and we’ll get good scores tonight,” I say, going back to get another knife. All around me there are tributes bigger and stronger than myself, throwing weapons that could kill me in an instant. I’m thinking that my tactic in the Games should be hiding. Maybe Summer and I can hide the whole Games. I don’t want to say that now, though.

“After you throw that, let’s go do something else,” Summer says, crossing her arms. This time I throw the knife with all my strength and it hits the board. I jump around with joy, even though it didn’t hit anywhere near the target. 

“Great!” Summer says, high fiving me. Together we walk away from the targets and knives and head for the fire-starting station instead. We bypass the gauntlet course, because all of the Careers are there and we don’t want to attract their attention. We haven’t said so to each other, but I know they scare both of us.

The trainer at the fire station teaches Summer and I how to build a fire that nobody will be able to see. Together, we dig a tunnel with two holes, one smaller than the other; then we use tinder and flint to light a small fire inside. Once it gets started, there’s very little smoke, thanks to an artificial breeze the assistant activates.

“It’s the safest way to have a concealed fire in the arena,” the trainer says kindly. “If you get a breeze like this, it’ll keep your fire going and blow the smoke away.” She lets the fire burn a few minutes, then puts it out to be safe. Summer and I try just a regular fire, and after a very long time we get that started too. 

“Come on, let’s go somewhere else now,” Summer says once the trainer puts out our second fire. I nod and get up, following my ally.

“I want to go back to the camouflage station,” I say.

“More flowers?” Summer asks, smiling. I like her smile a lot; it lights up her whole face. I like the whole of her, really. She has such long blonde hair that is so light that it’s nearly white. She’s the prettiest out of all the tributes for sure. And she’s chosen me to be her ally.

“I want to look pretty for the private sessions this afternoon,” I say. 

“Let’s go put some flowers on, then.”

We spend the rest of the morning painting each other into a field of flowers. Summer uses the paints to create a field of daisies running up one of my arms arms and a field of dandelions up the other. “They’re the only flowers we have in District 3,” she says almost apologetically.

Being from 9, we have more flowers and plants, not just the grain that we send to the Capitol. I paint Summer into a field of delphinium and alyssum on one arm and I wind lavender around her other arm. 

“Aren’t we beautiful?” I say, and we both giggle at ourselves.

“We have to wear them into our private sessions,” Summer says, and I nod.

“We’ll stand out for sure.”

I glance up at the clock and see that it’s a few minutes to twelve. A bunch of the other tributes, including the Careers, are already lining up waiting for the bell. I see the girl from 2 look our way, then lean in to the girl from 1; both of them look at us again and laugh. My face feels red hot.

“I think they’re laughing at our flowers,” Summer says, looking in the laughing tributes’ direction.

“Hmmph,” I say. “I don’t care. They can laugh all they want; we know we’re beautiful.”

With that, the bell rings and Summer and I get up together to get in line. We have to separate briefly to stand in district order, but as soon as I grab my lunch of soup and soft bread, I meet her at the table we’ve been sitting at for the last few days.

“Tell me all about District 3,” I say, sitting down across from her. Summer takes a spoonful of soup and blows on it, thinking.

“Very busy and city-like. Lots of factories and Peacekeepers. There’s not really a lot of plants there; just what weeds and flowers grow alongside the buildings in the cracks. It’s quite big, too. I live in an apartment with my parents and brother, and on the windowsills we grow some vegetables with the seeds we save from the produce in the market. Saves us money.”

She looks at me. “What about District 9?”

“Grain, lots of grain and fields, but we have lots of flowers and plants there too. We have factories, too for processing the wheat, but mostly we work in the fields, like my family,” I say. I’m starting to get nervous for this afternoon. 

Summer smiles at me, as though she can read my thoughts. “We’ll be okay, you’ll see. And allies in the arena?”

I nod. “Allies. Let’s hide the whole time, if we can,” I say, dropping my voice to a whisper.

“Okay.”

“We’ll be able to outlast the others and make it to the end,” I say. Neither of us mentions what happens at the end of the Games, though I’m sure we’re both thinking about it. I know I am, but I push it out of my mind. I couldn’t kill Summer. But my promise to my family to come home rings in my ears.

Just as I finish my last bite of bread, the bell rings for the end of lunch. Over the speakers comes a deep voice, “Tributes, please stay in the dining hall. You will be called out in order of district; when your name is called, please proceed to the gymnasium for your private session. Thank you.”

The speaker crackles into silence, and we all sit there and wait. Then the speaker comes back on and the man has been replaced with a robotic sounding woman.

“District 1, Velvet Dusksand.”


	17. The Private Sessions

** Dexsia Greentree **

Velvet gets up, still joking with Treasure, and leaves the dining hall. “What are you going to do?” I ask the table in general.

“Hey, trade secrets!” Cossus says, dangling a bun in front of my face. When I go to grab it, he whisks it away.

“No teasing, Cossus!” I say, laughing and trying to reach the bread.

Of course I’m doing sword fighting in my session; what else would I do? Aulus would be appalled if I tied knots the whole time. I’m confident I’m going to get a high score; I am one of the best students Aulus has ever had, after all.

It’s funny; I always thought that the two and a half days of training would be boring or stressful, but I’ve had the most fun I’ve ever had with my new allies. Even Treasure, who isn’t the brightest tool in the box.

“I’m looking forward to the interviews, aren’t you?” Calypso asks. “I want to get all dressed up again.”

“What were you in the parade?” Treasure asks, flicking her platinum blonde curls over one shoulder.

“My stylist put me in a mermaid costume and my district partner in an old-fashioned sailor suit. I was so pretty in the sparkly scales, but Mica looked like an idiot,” Calypso says. 

“Velvet better get a good score or else his mentor will kill him!” Treasure says, changing the subject again. “And his dad at home; winning’s so important to his family!”

“Why?” I ask. “I mean, it’s important in my district too, but why specifically to his family?”

“Don’t you know who Velvet is?” Treasure asks incredulously. Her expression suggests that I’ve literally shocked her.

“Yeah, he’s my ally,” I say, a little cautiously.

“Oh my gosh! You really don’t know! Velvet’s dad is Garnet Dusksand!”

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I ask, finally grabbing the bun from Cossus and stuffing it in my mouth.

“Wasn’t he a victor from the old times? Like twenty-five years ago or something?” Cossus says, stretching and yawning at the same time.

“Yeah! That’s him!” Treasure says in her unusually high-pitched voice. Really, it rivals the Capitol accent. “That’s why Velvet volunteered; his dad wanted him to!”

“Well you learn something new every day, don’t you?” Cossus says.

“District 1, Treasure Lockwater,” says the woman over the speaker.

“Looks like it’s me!” Treasure says, getting up. “See you later!”

Once Treasure has disappeared around the corner, Cossus sets his head down on the table. “I couldn’t take much more of that stupid voice of hers,” he says, slightly muffled. 

“She’s not that bright, is she?” Calypso says, looking at the door that Treasure left through.

I shake my head. “I really don’t think she is.”

“Hey, Dex, how come you volunteered? Is your dad a secret victor too?” Calypso asks, plunking her chin into her hands.

“No victor dad; I’ve always been encouraged to volunteer and I really wanted to. How about you? I forget, did you volunteer or no?”

“No, I was just picked.”

There’s more banter back and forth, and a whole bit where Calypso and Cossus argue about which bread is better, the District 4 salty seaweedy kind, or the cinnamon raisin kind from District 2. Frankly, I’m leaning towards the District 4 kind, and I’m about to say so, when Cossus’s name gets called.

“District 2, Cossus Underthorn.”

“See you upstairs, Dex,” he says, and leaves. I’m up next, and every fiber of my being is quivering in anticipation.

“Nervous?” Calypso says, watching me.

“Excited. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”

For the first time I’m really aware of just how calculating Calypso looks; like every time she looks at something or someone, she’s measuring them with her eyes. She has very straight reddish-blonde hair that keeps falling in her eyes, but her green eyes are the most striking thing about her. I can tell just right now that she isn’t a Treasure. I think I should keep an eye on Calypso in the Games. She might prove to be less of an ally than I thought.

“Did you see how dumb those two kids look with their arms painted up? They can’t think that the Gamemakers will take them seriously like that,” I say, looking over at the pair of twelve-year olds that have sat together for the past few days.

“Aw, let them have some fun with it; they’re not going to get a good score whether they have flowers or not,” Calypso says.

“But still, they can’t be serious,” I say. The smallest one with the reddish hair looks my way then averts her eyes quickly. I can see you looking at me, shrimp, I think. For some reason, she irritates me. The other girl she’s with is the really pretty one from 3. I have a feeling she’ll get a lot of sponsors, so she has to go too.

“We don’t have to worry about them,” Calypso says. “Or a lot of the tributes, really. Half of them are too weak to throw a knife or jump the obstacle course. Believe me, Dex, none of them are getting good scores.”

There’s a few that stand out for me that could get good scores; the two from 5, of course, possibly the two from 8, and even the boy from 12 could have a chance.

“District 2, Dexsia Greentree.”

“Good luck in there,” Calypso says.

“Thanks. See you in a few days,” I say, getting up and walking through the door of the dining hall. 

My heart is beating faster as I approach the gymnasium. I push open the door, which swings shut behind me, and walk out into the center of the room.

The Gamemakers are clearly having a party; they have a full banquet table, and half of them are holding glasses of some liquid I suspect is liquor. I’m lucky to be near the beginning, I realize. Once they get further down the districts, they’ll be too drunk to care what the tributes show them.

“Dexsia Greentree, District 2,” I say, presenting myself, then I turn to the swords. There’s a whole sea of practice dummies, and I think it’s time to see them lose their heads. Once I pick up a sword and see it balanced in my hand, I go into my training frame of mind, where the only things that exist are me, the target, and my sword.

I slash the first dummy’s head off immediately, then stab the next in the stomach. When I pull the blade out, sand runs out of the dummy’s torso. I make my way through the models, slicing in half, stabbing, delimbing, and decapitating, in a furious frenzy. I parry, spin, roll, duck and stab over and over again, losing myself in the moment. This is why Aulus chose me out of all those kids ten years ago. He saw promise, and now I’m showing the Gamemakers, the people who really matter, just how good I am, and how good I will be with a real opponent in the arena.

I’m showing them that I could be, and will be, a victor.

Finally, I stop, out of breath, and look behind me to see the sea of destruction I’ve left in my wake.

“You are dismissed,” says the man in the uniform that designates himself as Head Gamemaker. I take a small bow, return my sword to the rack, and leave.

On my way to the elevator I hear the next person being called.

“District 3, Copper Hawkgrove.”

** Dove Rosestar **

Cabel and I sit quietly, watching the other tributes get up for their private sessions. “Do what you’re best at for the Gamemakers; impress them!” That’s what Fabian said this morning before we headed down the elevator. 

I know what Cabel’s going to do; he’s going to throw some spears. He found out that he’s good with them yesterday after we split ways.

Lexa and Fabian asked a few days ago if we wanted to be trained together or separately.

“We have no secrets; together of course,” Cabel said. Fabian only grunted. I think he thinks our alliance won’t end well. I’m determined to get both of us home, though. I don’t have a choice.

“District 5, Alyss Overhorn.”

The tall girl with blonde hair gets up and goes out the door. “You’re next, aren’t you?” I ask Cabel. He nods.

“Hey, we get the night off!” I say, poking my brother in the side. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, come on, we’ll be fine. Go have fun,” I say.

“None of this is fun, Dove,” he says.

“I climbed the ropes again today; that was pretty fun.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I miss home too, Cabel. We’ll get through this, and we’ll win together.”

“There’s only one victor, Dove,” Cabel says, and his eyes are pained when he looks at me.

We sit in silence until his name gets called.

“District 6, Cabel Rosestar.”

“Good luck,” I say. He finally smiles like Cabel, then he gets up and goes out the door.

My brother hasn’t been acting like my brother ever since we got to the Capitol. He was always serious, but he’s gone completely quiet. It’s funny, even though he’s with me, I miss him so much. 

I’ve got to go in and get a good score. That way he’ll see that I’ll be alright in the arena, and maybe he won’t worry so much about me. We’ll be fine, I know we will! I just worry about how Mum will take it at home.

I miss Opal too, my best friend. We liked to take walks around after school sometimes, and talk about everything. Now, with both my friend and my brother lost to me, I have no one to tell my secrets to.

I come back from being lost in my thoughts when I feel someone looking at me. I glance over and it’s the District 12 girl again. What’s her name? Mara? I think it’s Mara. Well, if she’s looking to team up, I’m not accepting anyone else into our alliance. When she sees me looking at her, she whips her head the other way. 

“District 6, Dove Rosestar.”

Automatically, I get up and move out the door as if in a dream. I ignore the other tributes who are watching me go, waiting for their own turns. 

My lace up boots sound heavy on the tile floor of the hallway as I make my way to the gymnasium. I push the grey swinging doors open, and walk in to see the Gamemakers up on a stage having a party.

The man in the uniform that says he’s Head Gamemaker is holding a turkey leg as I stand there and look up at them.

“District 6, Dove Rosestar,” I say. He nods at me, and I turn to the knife rack, fingering the blades gently. Of all the things I’ve tried, I like the throwing knives best. I pick up two, one in each hand, and face a target about fifteen feet away. I position myself like the trainer told me to, grip the handles, and with my right hand I throw the blade with all my strength.

The knife hits and vibrates for a second at the edge of the board. Switching the knife from my left hand to my right, I throw again, hitting closer this time. I repeat it with four more knives, each one hitting closer to the center of the target.

I take my eyes off the target with the red center and look around the room. There’s a stack of practice dummies in one corner that have been mangled and destroyed, probably by a previous tribute. There’s still some standing, however, and I pick up one of the remaining knives on the rack. Positioning my feet, I lock my eyes on the dummy’s head. With one breath out, I send the knife flying, and it lodges in the dummy’s face. The knife buries itself deep within the head, and sand pours out around the blade, making a small pile start to pool up on the floor.

“Thank you, Miss Rosestar,” says the Head Gamemaker. I walk out without a look back, but I know that I’ve succeeded in what I came to do.

** Terra Coppersmith **

Fletcher sits across the room, tapping his fingers on the table. He looks nonchalant but I know he’s nervous, just as nervous as I am.

The redheaded girl from 7, Cedar, just got called back. It’s only a matter of time before Fletcher gets called, and then me. The thought makes my hands shake, and I can’t have that. Not now.

I don’t know if I’m good enough with a bow. I worked all this morning, getting my arrows closer and closer to the center of the target. Is it enough? I realize I’m biting my nails and I put my hands in my lap. 

I keep my eyes on Fletcher for a little bit more; the way he drums out a rhythm that I can’t hear, how easily he keeps his face relaxed, his easygoing nature. The way he runs his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end.

Fletcher notices me watching him and he winks. How can I not like this boy? And how will I ever be able to kill him in the arena? 

I put my face in my hands and rub my eyes, trying to clear my head. Remember who you’re doing this for, I think. Iry. Deecey. Mrs. Underfall, even. Fletcher is not in the cards for my survival. I need to get home to my family, need to keep Iry with me and not in the community home.

“District 8, Fletcher Wellrock.”

I look up to see Fletcher get up. He winks at me again, gives me a giant grin, then leaves through the doors. I can’t like him, I can’t do that to myself, or to Deecey. Not fair.

Of course, nothing in the Games is fair.

To keep my mind off Fletcher and my upcoming test of skill, I look around the room at the tributes who are left. There’s the tall dark-haired boy from 9 on one side of the room, and on the other is the really tiny tribute from 9. Her arms are covered in painted flowers. She looks so small and innocent. She’s so young…

Truly, my heart breaks for her and her family. Surely she knows that she won’t go home.

There’s the tributes from 10, the boy who looks unassuming, and the plain girl who is strong. I’ve seen her throw weights across the room over the past few days. She’s sitting alone, looking around the room with an alarmed look in her eye.

Sitting separately are the boy and girl from 11. I doubt either of them will last long in the arena. Neither are strong, and the boy doesn’t look particularly healthy. And the two from 12, the strong boy and the frightened girl, are sitting together for once.

I want to know all their names, and I could if I bothered to pay attention when the television is showing them. But I don’t really want to know who they are, because it will make it so much harder to kill them. And I’ll have to, if I’m going to get home.

I keep my head in my hands for the next few minutes, picturing Iry’s face, Deecey’s face, and the center of the target that I’m determined to hit today. Breathe, Terra, I think.

“District 8, Terra Coppersmith.”

I jerk my head up, still seeing stars from when I was pressing on my eyes. All the tributes are looking at me, like I’ve looked at all the other tributes when they got up to leave. Slowly, I swivel from my seat and stand up, moving through the tables and the dining hall and through the door. 

Down the hallway and into the gymnasium. I’ve spent all of three days in this room, but this time it feels different. For one thing, there’s a raucous party going on the stage where the Gamemakers sit. There’s lots of laughter, some are singing, and I can tell they’ve had altogether too much to drink.

I walk in, letting the door shut loudly behind me. Shuttle told me to announce my district and name, even though they called me in by it. I suppose she meant that the Gamemakers would be too drunk by the time I arrived to pay attention to who is called and when.

“District 8, Terra Coppersmith,” I say in a loud, clear voice. Some of the Gamemakers look over at me with interest, but the others keep eating and drinking. I have one shot to keep their attention. Walking over to the rack with bows and quivers of arrows on it, I pick a bow up and select a single arrow from the selection. I take my place before the target I’ve been trying to hit the center of for days.

Keep watching me, you fools.

I notch the arrow and pull the string back to my shoulder, aiming carefully at the large target on the wall. _Breathe in, breathe out._ Focus, Terra.

I let the string go, and the arrow flies across the room, thudding into the target.

_Bullseye._

** Catalina Nightwind **

My name is finally called, almost exactly fifteen minutes after Ornam was called back. I twist the beaded bracelet Challah gave me around and around my wrist, clutching my one remaining piece of home.

Are the others as scared as I am?

The walk down the hallway seems so much farther today, and I notice every step I take. My arms, so prettily decorated with Summer’s flowers, are held stiffly at my sides, even though I try to keep them relaxed. I’m so nervous.

The door is heavy and I take a minute to push it open, then I step inside the gymnasium. Nobody on the stage takes any notice of me, even when I stand in front of them and announce, “District 9, Catalina Nightwind.”

When they ignore me and carry on with their festivities, I go to the knife station, where I’ve been working. My hands are shaky and too small for the knives, but I throw one anyways. It lands far away from the target, and I hear someone laugh behind me. I stare at the grey blade lying on the hard floor.

What am I doing?

I turn around, leave the knives, and head straight for the camouflage station instead, picking up the pots of dyes and paints. This is what I love doing best, so this is what I will do for the Gamemakers. Rolling up my pants, I start to paint my leg into a forest floor, complete with tiny violets. It’s not the most accurate, but it is beautiful, at least to me. I will be beautiful a while longer.

I lose myself in the painting entirely until I hear someone clearing their throat.

“Miss Nightwind? You are excused.”

I look up to the stage and it’s the Head Gamemaker, looking directly at me. He makes me shiver. I hesitate, then paint one more violet. I won’t have another chance to. Then I cap the jars and set them carefully on the tray. He’s still watching me.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice higher than normal. Then I push my way out of the gymnasium and head for the elevators.

I step out of the elevator onto my floor, my pant leg still around my knee and my arms covered in the paint that’s slowly starting to itch. Arla is slumped in a chair when I walk into the living room.

“Don’t you look ridiculous,” she says, slurring her words. For once she isn’t holding a glass, but I don’t doubt that she was earlier. “What’s the flowers for?”

“It was my talent. And my friend painted my arms.”

“Friend?” Arla makes a noise that’s half laugh, half cough. “There’s no friends here, girl.”

“Where’s Ornam? Or Ripple?” I ask.

“Boy’s in his room. Ripple?” She shrugs.

“You were supposed to be my mentor,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Why won’t you help me?”

“Frankly, girl, you don’t have a chance in that arena,” Arla says, pushing herself to a sitting position with a lot of effort. “If that’s all you could show the Gamemakers, a few pretty pictures, you don’t have a chance.”

I clench my hands into fists. “You’re wrong! I promised my family I’ll get back home! I promised!”

“The faster you realize you’re not going home, the better. Less pain involved.” Arla pulls a little glass bottle out from behind the chair, uncorks it, and takes a long drink of it.

“I have to! I have to go home! I promised!” I say, my voice rising. I’m being threatened with the possibility of choking on my unshed tears that have gathered in my throat.

“Listen, listen to the strikes against you,” Arla says, her eyes a little less focused. “You’re the smallest, you’re arguably the youngest and weakest, and no twelve-year-old has won yet. No thirteen or fourteen-year old, either, if you think about it.”

“I don’t believe you! I promised!” I shout, shaking so hard I sink down to the floor, putting my face in my hands. “I promised Challah,” I sob. “I can’t let her down.”

“What on earth is going on?” Solara says, coming into the room trailed by the rest of our party.

“What the hell are you saying to her?” Ripple yells, coming at Arla like a bear. With one swift movement he has picked her up and pushed her against the wall with a crash.

“What are you saying to my tribute?” Ripple demands, keeping one hand on Arla’s arm, the other on her collarbone. Even Ornam has come out to watch the scene.

“Your tribute? She’s mine!” Arla gasps and Ripple drops her to the ground.

“You revoked your claim on Cat when you refused to help her the first day of training. She’s my tribute now, same as Ornam. Now, what were you saying to her that has her sobbing on the floor?” Ripple says a little quieter, but still as fierce as ever. Miri Pola is quiet for once, sitting next to me on the floor and rubbing my arm.

“I was only trying to let her know her chances and get her prepared for not going home,” Arla says meekly, reaching for the bottle by the chair. Ripple reaches down and grabs it away before Arla can pick it up, throwing it over his shoulder. It lands with a crash somewhere behind me.

“I don’t want you to talk to Cat for the rest of the time she’s in the Capitol. She has just as much a chance in the Games as anyone does, and if you could win, so can she. So can Ornam. I am having a victor this year, Arla, and I am going to do my damn well hardest to get one of them out of that arena. So shut up and go tell your nasty comments to the wall in your room. I don’t want to see you.”

Ripple picks Arla up off the floor by her arm and throws her towards the hallway. Arla totters a second, regains her balance, then she wanders off towards her room without another word. A door opens and shuts, and she’s gone.

Ripple comes and kneels next to me, on the side Miri isn’t on. I’m still shaking and crying, and I hate to be seen as weak, but I can’t stop.

“I promised Challah. I promised my parents. I promised them I would come home,” I say between gulps of air.

“I’m going to do my best to get you home,” Ripple says, quietly. All his fire has burnt out and he looks at me with pity, and with compassion.

“Let’s get you to your room so you can have a lie down before we watch the scores come out tonight. I’m sure you did just fine,” he says, and he and Miri lift me up and take me to my room. 

“You’ll be alright,” Miri says, her voice less affected by the Capitol accent than usual. She backs out and the door slides shut behind her. The day and the crying have tired me out, and after a few minutes I fall asleep in the last rays of the Capitol sun.


	18. High Scores

** Dexsia Greentree **

I sit back amongst the cushions on the couch, waiting for the television to turn to the results of the private sessions.

“No need to be worried,” Aulus says reassuringly. “If I know you at all, I know you’ll get a high score.”

I smile at my mentor. I’m excited to see the scores, for my family to see the scores, and for my team here to see the scores. Maybe Gallus will finally stop worrying about me.  
The screen lights up, focusing on the Capitol seal. “It’s on! It’s on!” I squeal, grabbing a cushion and hugging it to me.

“Well, we can agree that there’s some fierce competition this year, can’t we, Marcus?” says the Hunger Games announcer, Caius Glorystream to the man who typically does the interviews, Marcus Fireglen. Both are rather horribly altered, with Caius having blood red tattoos all over his face, and a narrower head than normal, and Marcus having very pointy ears, and bejeweled eyebrows.

“We certainly can, Caius! Welcome back to the 36th Hunger Games, everyone, and it’s time to announce the scores of this year’s tributes!”

The anthem plays first and we all sit quietly, waiting for it to be over. I really don’t have the time to listen to the music; I’m too excited and jittery.

“Let’s get started with our scores! First up from District 1 we have Velvet Dusksand, with a score of… 8!” Marcus announces with a too wide smile.

I nod my head; that seems right, but it’s a bit scary anyway. He’ll be tough to beat.

“Also from District 1 is Treasure Lockwater, with a score of… 7!”

“Your alliance is doing well so far,” Victoria says with a critical eye. I shush her; it’s us now.

“From District 2 we have Cossus Underthorn with a score of 7!”

Victoria thumps Cossus on the back; everyone’s congratulating him on his high score. Me, it’s me now, and I barely congratulate my district partner while I listen and wait.  
“And also from District 2 is Dexsia Greentree, with a score of… 9!”

I whoop and Aulus slaps me on the back, shouting, “I knew it! I knew that you were going to do well!”

Cossus looks at me suspiciously, but I don’t care, I got a 9! If that doesn’t make my family happy, I don’t know what will. I feel like dancing around the apartment. 

Victoria snaps her fingers and one of the Capitol attendants rushes up. “Get us champagne and seven glasses.”

Titia is absolutely thrilled, bouncing up and down on her seat. “I knew you were going to do well, both of you! Oh, this is such a wonderful year for District 2!”

“Nice going you two,” Catullus says quietly, and I know he means it.

“Shush! I want to see the others!” Julia says in her high voice. So I take the glass of champagne that the attendant brings and sip it throughout the rest of the viewing.

The weak boy and the pretty twelve-year old from 3 get a 4 and a 5 respectively. Mica from 4 gets a 5, and Calypso gets an 8. That makes all high scores for my alliance, and I’m pleased and nervous at the same time. They’ll be good for protection and strength in numbers, but they’ll also be harder to kill later.

The big surprise of the night is the giant boy from 5 who gets a score of 10. His district partner, Alyss, gets an 8.

“Tough competition, you two,” Aulus says, gesturing with his glass of champagne. “A 10 is hard to beat.”

The brother and sister pair from District 6 get scores of 7 and 6. I was surprised the girl got that high a score; I didn’t know she was that good at anything. Dove, what a stupid name.

Then the next picture flashes on screen of the forgettable District 7 boy, Branch, getting a score of 5, and the girl with the red curls, Cedar, gets a 7. We have some competition with some high scores, it looks like.

I finish my glass and wave off the attendant when she tries to fill it again. I don’t need more than one glass, and I want to remember tonight. I need to be in top shape for the Games.

District 8 is interesting; I’ve been noticing them over the past few days. The boy, Fletcher, gets a 6.

“Also from District is Terra Coppersmith, with a score of… 7!”

Another 7. We’ll have to focus on taking out these outliers before anything else. It’s these 7s who will be the most dangerous in the arena. Except for that 10, but that’s beside the point.

Then from 9 there’s the boy who volunteered, Ornam, and he gets an 8.

“Lots of high scores,” Titia says brightly, but I can see that Victoria’s forehead is creased watching the screen.

I laugh when the little twelve-year old, Catalina, gets a 4. “She couldn’t do anything!” I explain, looking at my team around me who are puzzled. “And she went into her sessions with flowers painted up her arms.”

Aulus laughs a short, barking laugh. “Maybe this will drive home that she isn’t going home,” he says. I don’t know why the kid annoys me so much, but I can’t stand her.

A 6 and another 7 from the tributes from District 10, as expected. The girl is quite strong, even if she isn’t much to look at. Kept to herself the whole time we were training. I finally catch her name, Sycae.

The really sickly looking boy from District 11 gets a 3, the lowest score in the Games, and the girl gets a 5. Finally, from District 12, the tall boy gets a 7, and the weak girl gets a 4.

The anthem plays again, and the television shuts off.

“You’re going to have some fierce competition,” Aulus says. “My advice to you is find them, and kill them as soon as you can, before they kill you. Got it?”

I nod. 

“What’s happening tomorrow?” Cossus asks.

“Preparing for the interviews. Cossus, you’ll spend four hours with me for content and four hours with Titia on how to look good,” Victoria says. “Same for you, Dexsia, but with Aulus.”

“What’s content?” I ask.

“Your angle. How you’re going to present yourself to the sponsors.”

Cossus nods. “Alright. I’ll see you in the morning, I suppose,” he says, then gets up to go to bed. 

“You should go too, Dexsia,” Victoria says, rising herself. Everyone else gets up as well.

“Goodnight,” I say, starting to move towards my room. Aulus grabs my arm and holds me back, waiting for everyone else to desert the living room.

“What?” I ask, then fall silent at the fierce look on my mentor’s face.

“Don’t trust the boy,” he hisses, jerking his head towards the hallway. “Kill him as soon as you get the chance. I want to see you home as a victor, you hear?”

I nod again.

“Kill him.”

Then Aulus releases me and walks off with purpose towards his room, leaving me in the living room watching him go.

I know Cossus isn’t to be trusted, and I know that none of my alliance is to be trusted long term. But now I have direct orders from my mentor to kill my district partner.

Cossus better watch his back in the arena.


	19. Rebel

** Dove Rosestar **

I lie in my bed in the dark, hands folded over the covers, staring at the ceiling that I can’t see. I can’t sleep. Too much happened today for me to sleep. So I got a 6; that’s a middle score. Lots of tributes got 7s, and a few got higher, but I got one solidly in the middle. What will that mean for my sponsors?

Cabel got a 7, and maybe that will inspire the sponsors to help us in the arena. We’re going to be totally on our own otherwise.

Well, I’m not going to be able to sleep, not with these kinds of thoughts. I sit up and switch on the light; I blink a few times, trying to get used to the light. 

I’m hungry. Rolling out of bed, I pad over to the magic food machine. Really, it’s quite clever, and I couldn’t tell you how it works. So I just appreciate it while I can. Even if I win, we won’t have one of these in District 6.

“Chicken soup,” I whisper into it. I don’t know why I want it, but it seems like the thing to eat at midnight. It appears in a white bowl, steaming hot, with a spoon alongside it. Can’t forget the spoon, and the Capitol thinks of everything.

Even though the room is a little cold, I don’t adjust the heat, nor do I climb back into bed. I sit by the window instead and look out at the streets below. It’s midnight and there’s still people wandering around down there. What can they be doing? I hate them, and yet I want to join them, in their outlandish costumes and their worlds that have no worries. I wonder what their lives are like.

“Dove?” I jump a little when Cabel opens the door.

“What?” I ask, whispering loudly.

“Why are you up? And why are you eating soup?” he asks.

“Hungry and can’t sleep. Come in,” I say, and Cabel shuts the door behind him as he walks over to join me.

“You can ask the magic machine for some soup,” I offer, nodding towards the corner. Cabel shakes his head.

“I’m not hungry. How come you’re up?”

“Not tired. Why are you up?” I ask, taking another spoonful. This soup is really good, actually. I haven’t tasted any bad food in the Capitol yet, and this is no exception. Creamy with chunks of chicken the size of marbles, all mixed together with peas and carrots. We so rarely have chicken at home that this is a wonderful treat.

“Can’t sleep, I guess same as you,” Cabel says, leaning against the glass of the window. “They don’t sleep down there either, do they?”

“Somebody’s always awake,” I say.

“I wonder what’s going on at home,” Cabel says, still looking out.

“I miss Mum,” I say, and the hurt of being away from home tightens around my middle. “We are going to get home, aren’t we, Cabel?”

“Mum and I talked when we said goodbye, and I promised her that I would get you out of the arena. They’re never going to allow two victors, Dove,” Cabel says, and his voice cracks a little. “I’m going to get you home, but you have to be okay with going home without me.”

“I can’t do that! I can’t go home without you! What would I do at home? I need you, Cabel!” I say, my voice rising a little. Panic is spreading through me like wildfire.

“I know I can’t get out of that arena alive if I don’t keep you alive. Listen Dove, if I die- when I die- in the arena, promise me that you will go on and fight, and win for the both of us, okay?”

“I’m going to get both of us out,” I say. I mean it. Mum needs Cabel, and I need Cabel. Going back to District 6 without him is not an option. “You have to trust me, Cabel. I’ll find a way to get us both home.”

Cabel smiles, and this time it spreads to his eyes too. “Alright, I’ll trust you. District 6 is going to have two victors this year.”

“It’ll be a fantastic year to watch,” I say, and we high five, like we always used to. The panic I was feeling is slowly subsiding, but the knot in my stomach stays. I really, really want to be home right now, same as always.

“I wonder if our double reaping was really chance or if it was rigged,” Cabel says quietly, going back to looking out the window, the smile slipping from his eyes.

“What?” I say.

“Maybe they think getting rid of the Rosestars is the best idea in District 6.”

“Why would they think that?”

Cabel looks at me, and he’s serious. “Has anyone ever told you what Father did to get himself killed?”

I shake my head, but I look around the room, looking for the cameras that are sure to be in here. Isn’t this dangerous to talk about?

Cabel picks up on my hesitation and leans in to my ear. “He was a rebel, and so am I.”

I gasp. “But you promised Mum!” I hiss. 

“I didn’t join that band that got killed, I joined another, so I kept my promise. They caught on a few days before the reaping, and that’s why I think we got picked. It was rigged,” he whispers in a voice so low I can barely hear it.

“You idiot!” I say, putting the bowl of soup down next to me and shoving Cabel. “You’ve killed me, and you!”

“I was doing something for our district; I wasn’t aiming to get us reaped,” Cabel says, still low, but in anger. “I don’t regret what I did, but I regret pulling you into it. And don’t you see, Dove, there’s no way I’m going to make it out of the arena except in a pine box!”

“I need to go,” I say, standing up and pushing past Cabel, out into the living room.

“Dove!” Cabel calls. If he doesn’t stop yelling, he’ll wake everyone up.

I want to leave the apartment, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. I don’t want to see Cabel right now, not after that. He’s coming after me, I can hear his footsteps, so I dive behind one of the couches and bury my face in my hands.

How could he have been so stupid? Will they hurt Mum at home? More than anything, he’s practically placed a target on both of our backs in the arena, and now I’m never going to get him out like I planned. How could he have been so stupid?

“Dove?” Cabel whispers, walking quietly through the living room. I want to scream at him to go away, but I already have limited time with him as it is.

“I don’t know how you could have been such an idiot,” I mutter, and he finds me right away.

“I wanted to do the right thing. To continue what Father started. That’s why they killed him,” he says, crouching beside me.

“But you promised,” I say, and I think that hurts most of all. He’s never broken a promise before now.

“I’m sorry, Dove. And I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. I’m going to get you home, okay?”

“And if you don’t?” I say, and my voice drops again to barely a breath.

Cabel whispers right in my ear, “Then we’ll give them hell.”

He grins right at me, and I can see his teeth in the dark. “The Rosestar siblings won’t give in without a fight. It’s in our blood. We’ll go in and give it our best, and that’s all we can do.”

“It’s not a game of baseball,” I say, crossing my arms.

“No, it’s not. It’s an easier game than that in some ways. Go in, survive. Two things. We can do two things, Dove. We can do it.”

“I think we’re changing positions on this matter,” I say, getting up into a kneeling position.

“I think we’re both right. You’re 6, I’m 7, and we’ll go take the others by storm. Maybe we can get out together, like you said. Anything’s possible with the Capitol’s goodness,” he says, and I hear the laughter in his voice.

“Yes, they’re very generous. They gave me soup earlier tonight and I didn’t get a chance to finish it,” I say, my tone lightening as the knot in my stomach unties slightly.

“Why don’t you go finish it now?” Cabel asks, giving me a hand up. We walk together back to my room.

“See you in the morning, Dove,” he says, and he hugs me.

“Will Mum be okay?” I whisper.

“She’ll be fine.”

“Goodnight, Cabel.”

“Night.”

I sit and eat the last of my cooling soup before climbing back into bed and turning the lights off. Sleep doesn’t come, not with the information I’ve been overloaded with. I’m going to try to get out, I have to get out with Cabel.

Now I’m not so sure I will.


	20. Playing Determined

** Terra Coppersmith **

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Fletcher asks, spreading jam on a scone. Everyone’s here for breakfast, except for the stylists. I’m pretty sure they’re off preparing for tomorrow’s interviews.

“You’re with me first,” Postumius says, sipping orange juice. Good grief, even his juice is orange. Doesn’t this man quit? 

“And me?” I ask, taking a bun from the center of the table. An attendant comes behind me and fills my glass with orange juice as well. “Thank you,” I say, and he scurries away. I wonder what they do to the attendants to make them so frightened.

“You’re with me to decide your angle,” Shuttle says. I nod, taking a bite out of my bun.

“We are going to have so much fun today,” Fletcher says, winking at me. He’s got to stop doing that; it makes my stomach drop every time.

My dreams were confusing and hectic last night. There were bows and arrows and targets, and the announcer, Caius, saying my score was a 7, which is a really good score for someone who hadn’t shot a bow before I came to the Capitol. And Fletcher; Fletcher was everywhere. 

I can’t like him, not where we’re going. And I can’t like him because Deecey liked him first. One half of me says stop it, forget about him, he’s going to die, but the other half says, you’re probably going to die in the next few days. Go ahead, Terra. 

With my thoughts so jumbled, it’s a miracle I slept at all. I need to keep my focus on what matters; keeping alive so I can go home to Iry. Fletcher can’t be part of it.  
Then why does my stomach keep dropping and my heart keep quickening when he looks at me?

“Alright, finish up,” Shuttle says, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “We have a busy day today, and four hours to work on your angle, so we need to get working.”

Cramming the last bit of bun in my mouth, I push away from the table. “Let’s go,” I say, making Shuttle raise her eyebrows.

“With manners like that, you’ll never get sponsors.”

I shrug and say through a mouthful of bun, “I’ll take my chances.”

A few minutes later, she and I are sitting in my room, her on the bed, me on the ottoman. “So, what’s the angle you’re coming up with for me?” I ask, looking up at her.

“You’re strong, resilient. Got a sister at home you want to go home to, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll keep your unexpected talent with a bow secret until you get into the arena, so we won’t play that angle up.”

Shuttle looks at me, turning her head side to side, examining me up and down. “I think we’ll play you as determined. You can do that, can’t you? You’re determined already.”

“Tell me what to say and I’ll say it,” I say, twisting my fingers around each other. Determined. I can play that. I am, after all.

“Go out and tell them about how you promised your sister to come home, how you’ve found new strengths here in the Capitol- don’t tell them what they are, of course- and don’t be seen as weak. Play strong, fierce even.”

“Tell me how, and I’ll do it.”

“I think you’re already there,” Shuttle says, smiling.

Four hours later I’m leaving my room, having learned all I need to. I’ll be determined, stubborn, brave onstage. No weakness from me. Easy to play, so I’m happy with my angle. It’s a double-edged sword, though. If I’m seen as tough then the sponsors will look at me with interest, but so will my competition. If I played it weak, the other tributes, especially the Careers, would ignore me, at least at first, but so would the sponsors. Shuttle’s balanced it all out to give me the best chance of survival.

If I go in fighting, it’ll settle Iry and Deecey’s minds, anyway. I don’t want to seem like I’ve given up before the Games have even begun.

Fletcher comes out of the living room rolling his eyes. “After lunch he’s all yours. Good luck,” he says.

“Terra!” Postumius calls in a sing song voice. I roll my eyes. Four hours with him? I don’t know how I’m going to survive. I’d almost rather go into the Games early than look at that stupid orange suit for four hours. Is it the same one as the one he wore to the reapings? No, this one has more embroidery and buttons on it. It still looks stupid.

“So, what are you going to teach me?” I say warily, sitting down in the living room across from Postumius. He’s grinning maniacally, legs crossed. His pant legs are about four inches too short, and I have no idea why. Does Capitol fashion really encourage that? I’m also fairly sure, by looking at my escort’s face, that he has had at least one drink so far today. I feel sorry for Fletcher, I really do, as Postumius’ first victim.

“Well, after lunch I’m going to teach you how to walk and talk and be manner perfect for the cameras!” Postumius says, literally bouncing up and down. Four hours? Why?

Woven comes in then, just in time before I go crazy looking at that orange suit. “Come on in for lunch.”

Postumius bounds up and walks off a little wobbly stepped for the dining room. I hold back with Woven, watching him go.

“Four hours? Really?” I mutter, and Woven gives a half laugh.

“I wouldn’t put you through it but it’s the rules. What an idiot,” she says, and we both laugh then.

“I’d rather face the other tributes in the arena,” I say.

“That will be arranged soon enough. Come on, you’ll need to eat to keep up your strength for this afternoon.”

I follow Woven into the dining room and sit down beside Shuttle. Postumius is already asking for a glass of wine.

“No more for you,” Shuttle says, waving the servant away.

“Why can’t I have wine?” Postumius pouts.

“Because I want you focused on Terra this afternoon and not being a total idiot. You can go ahead and drink tonight.”

“Fine,” he mutters and picks up his glass of water. For once he’s not smiling.

Lunch is a subdued matter, but I enjoy the food anyway. Especially this stew they have today; it’s delicious. My eyes keep flicking over to Fletcher, and I see several times that he’s looking at me as well. I look away, off to a painting of fruit on the wall. My heart keeps dropping in my chest.

Too soon Postumius stands up and says, “Let’s go, Terra!” Inwardly I groan, but I follow him to the other room.

Behind me I can hear Woven saying, “You’re with me now, boy,” to Fletcher.

The next four hours are excruciating. Postumius, a man with no fashion sense and usually abominable manners, strives to teach me how to walk, sit, and talk, despite him not knowing how to do any of those without bouncing.

“Smile, Terra! We all want to see your smile!”

“I’m supposed to be determined; do I smile for that?”

“Always smile! It makes you look so much prettier!”

Fine, I’ll smile. I still hate him.

He makes me wear a long skirt and high, high heels, and walk around the living room in them. Heels are difficult for me, and I keep toppling over and having to grab onto the arms of the chairs.

“Do they have to be so high?” I ask, the third time I fall over.

“You never know what your stylist will put you into!” Postumius says brightly.

Then, once I’ve walked twice around the living room without falling, he sits me down and makes me repeat back banal phrases, all with a bright smile.

If he was in the arena with me, I would have no problem killing this idiot.

At last the four hours are up, and I’m exhausted, more mentally than physically. “You’ll do just fine!” Postumius says, jumping up. “Now where’s that wine…” Off he wanders off in search of a Capitol attendant.

Fletcher comes out of his room followed by Woven. “I see you survived,” he says with a small grin. “Where’s orangey?”

“Off for a drink. Good riddance,” I say, jerking my head to the dining room.

“I really ought to talk to someone about getting him replaced,” Woven says. “He’s a dreadful escort.”

“Oh, don’t,” I say. “He’s the best part of the reapings.”

“True that,” Fletcher says. “I’m hoping he picks another color next year, though. The orange is rather blinding.”

“You two can go off and do what you like until supper,” Woven says, getting distracted. “I’ve got to go monitor that fool.” She walks off towards the dining room, leaving Fletcher and me alone.

“So?” Fletcher says, looking at me.

“So what?”

“What do you want to do?”

I shrug. “No idea.”

“We could go talk somewhere; it would be nice to have some decent conversation for once.”

I cross my arms. “Is it a good idea to be friends, where we’re going?”

“I don’t see how I can hate you in the arena. Come on, it’ll be fun, and we won’t have many more conversations with anyone in two days.”

“Are we allies then?” I ask. I wasn’t planning on having allies in the arena. It was just supposed to be me. But Fletcher is complicating things again!

“If you want to be. I’m not planning on killing you,” he says, and he says it so cheerfully and easily that I want to agree to be allies, to talk to him before we’re both dead.

“Alright, let’s go talk. Why not?” I say, and he smiles, lighting up his eyes.

“We can go to my room; it’s got a good view,” he says, starting towards the hallway.

“They all have good views, Fletcher,” I say, and he laughs.

“Come on, then!”

However hard I try, the odds of me going home are so slim. So I forget Deecey, forget my sister, for the time being, and I follow Fletcher to his room.


	21. Lavender Blossoms

** Catalina Nightwind **

I’m woken up late by my prep team. “It’s interview day!” they say, cheery as always. What they don’t say is that tomorrow the Games start. That makes me want to pull the covers over my head and stay in bed forever, blocking out tomorrow. I can’t, though, because they pull me out of bed and set me on my feet. One of the women leads me to the end of my bed and makes me sit there as the others pull out their beauty tools.

I’m so scared, but my prep team doesn’t notice that I don’t talk as they bustle around me, covering my face in white powder and creams. My stylist, Solara, comes in a little later and watches over the three assistants with a critical eye, sometimes telling them to do something different, or apply more cream.

“You should have been at that party last night! There was the most fantastic lobster, and one of the Gamemakers came to it!” says one of my prep team to another.

“Whose party was it?”

“Cordia Caerellia’s, you know, the former District 1 escort. I’ve never seen a better decorated place in my life!”

“What did you wear?” And so on and so on. My head hurts by mid-morning listening to them. Occasionally Solara joins in, but mostly she’s silent, speaking only to correct one of the other women.

Noon comes and I’m starving; I haven’t had breakfast or anything yet today. “Can I get some food, please?” I ask timidly. 

“Oh, we’ll give you something in a bit!” Solara says, but they get distracted by talking about what they wore to that party last night and completely forget.

After a bit, Ripple comes in to see how I’m doing. “The boy is almost done already; would you believe it?” he says, taking a seat by me on the bed.

“Don’t bump!” shrieks one of the women, busy puffing powder over my face.

“Are you hungry?” Ripple asks, ignoring the woman, and I nod. He gets up, making the woman with the powder shriek again, and goes over to the food machine. The woman grabs my head and forces it to face the front, so I can’t see what Ripple is doing until he comes back. Something warm drops into my lap.

“Let her take a break. She’s starving,” Ripple says; the prep team reluctantly retreats, letting me pick up what Ripple gave me. It’s a large, brown, and twisted piece of bread, sprinkled with salt. I’ve never seen anything like it.

“What is it?” I ask, looking from the bread to Ripple.

“A pretzel. Haven’t you ever tasted one before?”

I shake my head.

“Go ahead, it’s good. Eat up, I’m going to go tell Miri what progress you’re making here.” Ripple leaves and I eat the pretzel as fast as I can. He’s right; it is good. I’m glad he came in to see me. I haven’t seen Arla since the night of the private sessions, and I hope I won’t ever see again. I hate her.

As they resume their prepping, I start to think. Will I be able to find Summer in the arena? Will I make it out of the Cornucopia circle alive? All these questions race around my head and chase each other like cats and dogs. Challah, I wish you were here, or better, I wish I was home with you and Lavender and Edel and Mother and Father.

“You are going to look fabulous tonight!” Solara says, trying to reassure me. But I stay silent, gritting my teeth to keep them from chattering. I’m terrified of tonight, talking in front of all those people.

My prep team works from around ten or eleven in the morning to late afternoon on me. One woman paints my nails in light purple, drawing lavender blossoms on them once the nails are dry. I won’t say it, but I love what she’s done. It’s like having my sister with me tonight. I miss Lavender so much.

“I know you love flowers, so we’ll put some up your arms, like you wore to your private session!” says another woman with vibrant aqua hair. Her eyelashes are so long I wonder how she can keep her eyes open.

Flowers. I smile at the idea, but I can’t see them properly yet, because the third woman, with long gold nails, is coloring in my eyebrows at the moment.

“Not too much, Cleo,” Solara says to the gold nail woman. “We want her to look twelve, not twenty.”

The brushes tickle my arms as the aqua hair woman paints the flowers up the sides of my arms. The woman with blue tattoos, who did my nails, has now moved to my hair, curling it with a hot iron. 

“Keep your eyes closed,” Cleo says, coming at my eyelids with a brush heavily tinted in light purple. Over the afternoon, they apply my makeup, curl my hair, and finish the flowers snaking their way up my arms. Finally, when the clock on the wall says four o’clock, they step back and admire their work.

“Can I see?” I ask timidly.

“Wait, let’s put your dress on first,” Solara says, coming forward with something purple and fluffy. “Close your eyes!”

They make me hold my arms up above my head and keep my eyes shut as they slip a soft dress over me, guiding my arms into the sleeves. Someone pulls a sash tight at the back; another slips shoes on my feet. After a little fluffing and walking around me, Solara finally says, “Open your eyes, Catalina.”

I open my eyes to see me in the full-length mirror. The dress is light purple and is fluffy and soft and beautiful. The sleeves are capped, the skirt is full and comes to mid-calf. A sash is around my waist, pulling the dress tight; when I turn in the mirror, I can see a large bow at my back. My red-brown hair has been curled and pulled to one side, tied with a bow; there’s pink eyeshadow on my eyes and on my lips there is light pink lipstick. To finish it off, I’m wearing dark purple shoes with a small heel. Twining up my arms are roses and lavender blossoms and vines.

I look young, and innocent, and beautiful.

“You look beautiful,” Ripple says, coming back in and seeing me in my finery. I’ve never worn anything so beautiful, never in my whole life. 

Miri clacks in after Ripple in heels so high I don’t see how she can even walk. “Time to start getting going!” she says, then breathes in a gasp when she sees me. “Oh, Catalina, you look beautiful!”

She and the rest of them admire me a second more, then Miri claps her hands. “Let’s go, everyone! We have a show tonight!” She starts pushing us all out the door, gathering us by the elevators, even Arla, who doesn’t look too well tonight. She avoids looking at me, and I’m glad for it. I hate her. 

“Show time!” Miri says again as the elevator doors open and she herds us all in, except for the prep team. They’ll go down separately. The interviews start soon, and I’m scared again.

Oh, I hope my family will think I’m beautiful!


	22. The Interviews

** Dexsia Greentree **

I fluff out my dress around me, making sure it all falls in neat pleats. I’ve never really cared for fancy dresses and dressing up, but tonight is different. Tonight I’m going to be live on television for all of Panem, and it is exhilarating. I’m standing in front of Cossus, who’s looking sharp in a black suit with red jewel accents on the jacket.

Meanwhile, Catullus has put me in a deep red dress with a gold hem that has no sleeves and falls just above my knees. My hair has been braided up and piled on the back of my head in an elaborate bun; dark eyeliner and red lips highlight the rest of my face. In Capitol terms, and even in District 2 terms, I am stunning tonight, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

Ahead of me Velvet stands in a dark purple suit made of, of course, velvet. It’s quite warm out tonight and he must be sweltering in that material. Treasure is dressed in a flimsy blue dress that billows around her knees. I wonder how she feels going on first of any of us.

We’re all lined up backstage, waiting for our cues. When whoever is in charge waves us on, we’ll go and take our seat with Marcus Fireglen, the man who does the interviews, and has been doing them for at least the last five years. 

I can hear chattering in the audience, which disappears when the anthem plays and we all snap to attention. When the last note fades out, Marcus bounces onstage with an overly cheerful smile on his face.

“Hello, Panem!” he says, and the audience applauds. “Welcome to the interviews for the 36th Hunger Games! I think we’re ready to meet our contestants, don’t you think?” The audience screams its approval.

“First up is from District 1! Ladies and Gentlemen, put your hands together for Treasure Lockwater!”

Treasure steps out in six-inch teal high heels, waving cheerfully at the crowd. She takes Marcus’s hand and sits down on the chair across from his, beaming ear to ear.  
“Well, Treasure, how are you feeling about tomorrow?” Marcus asks, and Treasure only laughs. 

“Oh, Marcus, I can hardly wait! I’m enjoying my time in the Capitol so much that I can’t wait to get back here!” she says, and Marcus pats her arm.

“Sounds like we have a victor in the making right here! Tell me, Treasure, what’s your favorite thing about the Capitol?”

“Oh, all of you! I’m so grateful to have so many people on my side, and I love the fashions here! I mean, just look at this!” she says, waving at the audience and then at her dress. Even though Treasure may not be the brightest bulb in the box, her mentor is very clever in helping her get sponsors. Of course, if she gets sponsors, I benefit from it, so I let it go.

Next up is Velvet, who plays up the arrogant angle.

“Win? Of course I’m going to win; I’m going to be the best victor you’ve ever seen out there. How can I not win, look at me!” he says, flexing his muscles on stage. I roll my eyes. I’m not scared at all for my turn next, is that normal? When I look back, I can see the boy from 3 having a quiet panic attack.

“Thank you Velvet Dusksand! Next up is from District 2, and we all love District 2, don’t we?” Marcus says, and I prepare myself to step onstage as the audience applauds.

“Please welcome to the stage, Dexsia Greentree!”

I step out automatically and flash the audience the most dazzling smile I can. I can see a couple hundred people in the audience, but I can’t see any of their faces. Taking Marcus’s hand, I let myself be guided to the seats where the interviews are conducted.

“How are you doing tonight, Miss Greentree?” Marcus asks, and I’m all too aware of all the eyes in Panem watching me.

“Oh, Marcus, call me Dexsia,” I say, crossing my legs. I don’t like these shoes; they’re too tall. And really, my dress is too short to cross my legs comfortably, but I manage.

“Well, Dexsia, how are you feeling about your odds tomorrow?”

“I’ve never felt better. I know I’m the best going in there,” I say, and smirk a little. I love the attention, just love it; the more eyes on me, the better. 

“Let me ask you a few questions: what is your greatest strength, and what is your greatest weakness?” Marcus asks.

“I’m the best girl with a sword you’ll ever see, and I don’t have any weaknesses, Marcus. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you them. That would be giving too much away, wouldn’t it?” I say.

Aulus and I worked on my angle yesterday; he told me to be confident and well-prepared. And it’s no secret my talent is with the swords.

“Well, Dexsia, it sounds like you’re going to be just fine in the arena,” Marcus says.

“I’m going to be the best, Marcus, just you wait and see!”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see you in action!” Marcus says, swinging his microphone like a sword, which gets a few laughs from the audience. I just keep smiling as prettily as I can, but the stage lights are hot and my forehead feels damp under my bangs.

“Let me tell you, Dexsia, that dress you’re wearing is one of the best ones we’ve seen on this stage! Well done to your stylist!” Marcus says, holding his microphone properly again, and the audience applauds for Catullus. The buzzer goes off then, and Marcus helps me up. 

“Good luck, Dexsia Greentree!” he says, I give another wave and smile to the audience, and then I climb the stairs above the stage where Treasure and Velvet are already sitting. I take my place by them, and sit back to watch the rest of the interviews.

** Dove Rosestar **

Sitting backstage waiting is excruciating. At least we’re not standing in line anymore; after the girl from 3 went up someone brought chairs and let us sit down. Right now we’re watching the girl from 5, and she is absolutely terrifying. I work my hand into Cabel’s and he squeezes it tight. Since I’m the girl I’ll go ahead of him. I don’t want to go on at all.  
I like my dress, though. It’s cerulean blue, tied with a black sash at the back, and dotted with green gems. And I get to wear flats, unlike most of the girls who are in high heels that look really uncomfortable. My prep team put my hair up in two buns on either side of my head, so I have two black knobs for hair now. All in all, I don’t look terrible, and presentable enough. 

“Let’s get this straight,” Alyss, the girl from 5 says, arm over the back of the chair she’s sitting in. Her blonde hair has been curled and piled up on top of her head, making her look taller than she is, which is very, very tall. “I never wanted to get reaped, and I thought I could go one more year being lucky. But no, I’m here, and I tell you Marcus, I’m going to kill every person in that arena so I can get back here as a victor.”

“Think you can do it?” Marcus asks.

“Think I can? Of course I can, don’t be stupid,” she says, laughing a little. It’s not a joyful laugh, though. The buzzer goes off just then and Marcus shakes Alyss’s hand, helping her up. She turns, walks up the stairs, and joins the rest of the tributes on the platform above the stage.

“Don’t we have some good competition, people?” Marcus asks the audience, and they cheer. “Let’s meet another tribute who I know we’re dying to get to know! Let’s give a warm welcome to Kouza Skyroad!”

The tall and menacing boy from District 5 lurches out onstage, grabbing Marcus’s hand in his and squeezing tightly. 

“So, Kouza,” Marcus says when they’re seated, “Tell me a bit about yourself. Got family back at home who are betting on you?”

Kouza nods shortly, hands fiddling on the arms of the chair. “Yes, I’ve got family. But you know what I am, Marcus?”

“What?”

“Furious. I should be back with my girl, not here talking to you. And I’m going to tell you, I’ve heard a lot of other people so far tonight say that they’re going to do whatever it takes to get home, but they have nothing on me. I’m stronger than all of them, I’m more determined than the rest of them. I’m going to be your victor.”

Marcus is taken aback, but recovers quickly. “So, Kouza, tell me about that 10 you received in training. Highest mark this year.”

“Not high enough. I wanted a 12.”

Kouza and Marcus go back and forth for a minute or so more, Kouza spitting angry answers to Marcus’s tentative questions, and everyone is relieved when the buzzer sounds. Kouza is obviously very dangerous, and I don’t want to meet him in the arena.

Someone from backstage gets me ready to go into the wings; Cabel squeezes my hand one more time. I’m trying to keep calm, but I’m scared nevertheless.

“Next up, coming all the way from District 6, is Dove Rosestar!” Marcus announces, and I’m onstage shaking his hand, and then I’m sitting down, trying to smile and look at Marcus and the audience at the same time.

“Dove, how are you tonight? Marcus asks.

“I’m fine,” I say. Too short an answer. I tack on, “I’m so happy to be here!”

“I’ll bet the Capitol was a shock to you, wasn’t it?”

Gush. Lexa told me to be humble but enchanted with the Capitol. “It’s so much more beautiful than I ever imagined!” I say, smiling in what I think is an animated way. I’ve been smiling too much for the people since I got here, and I’m sick of it.

“Tell me a bit about yourself; what do you like to do in your spare time?” Marcus asks.

Good question. What do I like to do? My mind is blank. So I say the first thing that comes to my head.

“I like to sing at home, and when I walk around my district.” It’s true, I love to sing, though not for anyone else but me.

“Ooh, we have a singer! Ladies and gentlemen, we have a talented girl on our hands! Dove, go ahead and sing something for us!”

Oh, why did I say I like to sing? Look what I’ve gotten myself into! I never even sing for Cabel or my mother, let alone the whole of Panem. I can’t refuse, though; I risk my sponsors. And I need sponsors. Maybe singing will help that cause along.

I smile, trying to stall, trying to think of a simple song that would be appropriate for an interview. Racking my brains, I settle on an old song that Mum used to sing to me as a small child.

_“I give you roses and daisies to keep,  
I give you the sunset as day grows dark.  
I give you the dove, the finch, and the lark,  
To fly overhead and sing you to sleep.” _

The audience has hushed, listening to me sing, and I hope I’m not offkey. I pause, wondering what to do next. Do I continue the song, or do I end it there? Marcus decides the matter.

“Oh, do sing more, Dove! Do we want more?” he calls to the audience, and they cheer. I can feel my face turning red at their attention, and I can feel the heat from the other tributes glaring at the back of my head.

_“I give you the world and all its dreams,  
I give you the sun and the moon.  
I give you the cardinal and the loon,  
And the light from the moonbeams.” _

I smile sheepishly at Marcus. “That’s all of it,” I say.

“You are a very talented girl! Oh, that was beautiful! What do you think?” Marcus exclaims, and the audience cheers louder. I blush redder, and then the buzzer goes and that’s my interview, it’s over, and I’m shaking Marcus’s hand and climbing up the stairs to sit beside Kouza, who is glaring menacingly at me. I stare straight ahead and wait for Cabel.

“Wasn’t that spectacular? I don’t think I’ve heard a voice that pretty in I don’t know when!” Marcus says, and I blush even redder when I see the cameras focused on me still. I try to smile for Mum. I’m glad she got to hear me sing one more time.

“Now, this year we have a sibling group! Let’s bring out Dove’s older brother and see what he has to say! Welcome to the stage, Cabel Rosestar!”

Cabel walks out, smiling in what I can only describe as a noble way at the crowd. He takes Marcus’s hand in his, shakes it once, and says, “Good to meet you, Marcus.”

“Come take a seat, Mr. Rosestar,” Marcus says, and the two of them take their seats. “So, Mr. Rosestar,” Marcus starts.

“Cabel.”

“Yes, Cabel, how are you tonight?”

“Never been better, Marcus.”

“I have it on good authority that that little singing girl is your sister, is that right?” Marcus asks.

Cabel nods. “Dove’s my sister, yes.”

“Now, tell me, how did you feel when Dove’s name was pulled out of the bowl? Must have been a shock for you, both of you going in together.”

“I was shocked, and truly devasted, Marcus. I’ve been trying to keep her safe all my life, you see, and she’s really important to me. So in that moment I felt like I’d failed her and my mother.”

“And how are you feeling now with the Games tomorrow?”

“I’m glad I’ve had Dove with me; it makes everything easier, and not so nerve-wracking. I promised my mother before I left that I would take care of Dove, and I mean to uphold that in the arena.”

“You’re a brave young man, Cabel,” Marcus says, and he actually looks touched. “We’ve heard your sister sing; are there any other talents that run in the family?”

Cabel shakes his head. “Dove’s the talented one, always has been. I’m just the big brother,” he says, and laughs a little. Me, the talented one? But Cabel has always been the perfect son, perfect citizen. Except for being a rebel. Maybe that’s his hidden talent.

“What’s your strength, and what’s your weakness?” Marcus asks.

“I’m keeping my strengths a secret, but I can tell you right now what my weakness is, and it should be quite obvious: Dove.”

“Well, Cabel, I wish you luck in the arena,” Marcus says, the buzzer rings, and the audience is clapping for my brother as he walks up the stairs to sit beside me. I squeeze his hand tight. I’m glad Cabel’s come with me, or I’ve gone with him. Whichever way it works. We’ll go in as a team, and everyone else will have to watch out for us.

** Terra Coppersmith **

I’m trying not to look at Fletcher beside me, because I know he’s grinning again. I never should have gone to talk to him in his room; I’ll never be able to kill him now. I like him too much. I also _like_ him too much, which also poses a problem. 

I’m poking at my nails that my prep team did for me; gold and sparkly. I’m fine with my outfit, too, which is a thin gold dress with curlicues of red swirling through it; they’ve left my hair loose and curls keep popping into my face. Under my dress I’m wearing the necklace with my mother’s ring that Iry gave me the day of the reaping. Every so often I touch it, to make sure it’s still there.

The red headed girl from 7 is currently onstage, perfectly at home in front of the cameras.

“So, Cedar, how are you feeling about the Games?”

“I’m more than okay. I’ve come to do something for my family and go home, you know.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Marcus asks.

“Do you recall Comfrey Duskforest, 20th Hunger Games?” Cedar asks.

“Well now, that’s a long time ago! I’m not sure!” Marcus says, visibly confused, as am I.

“What’s she getting after?” I mutter to Fletcher.

“She was my aunt, and she died on the third day of the 20th Hunger Games. So, I’m here to avenge her and win for my whole family,” Cedar says with a humorless smile.

“You’re going in for a whole family! Well, I think you have a good shot at it, Cedar, what with that 7 you scored in training.”

“I’ll be better than that 7, you’ll see. I’m not going to go in there to die; I’m going in to win,” she says, and the audience applauds. 

“Watch her in the arena, I think she’ll be dangerous,” Fletcher says without his usual cheerful tone.

“We’re all going to be armed and dangerous, Fletcher,” I say. 

“Except maybe her,” Fletcher says, gesturing to the little girl from 9 beside him. She’s not going to make it out, and neither will the twelve-year old from 3, but most of us have a fighting chance in there, which worries me.

“Everyone I’ve talked to tonight has assured me they’re going to be that victor. How do you feel with that?”

“Well, the rest of them are wrong, aren’t they?” she says, tipping her head to one side.

Cedar flips her brilliantly colored hair over one shoulder. “Aren’t you concerned with your hair in the arena?” Marcus asks, admiring it. “Anyone will be able to see it from a mile off.”

“I’ll just kill them then,” Cedar says. I can tell, what between the unusual hair and the cocky attitude, that Cedar is going to have a lot of sponsors in the arena. I’m just going to have to match her.

“Thank you, Cedar!” Marcus says as the buzzer goes, helping her up and raising her hand above the air as though in triumph. Not so fast, I think. Cedar does a dainty curtsy and runs up the stairs to the seats above the stage.

How am I going to play up Determined while slipping a goodbye and a word or two to my family at home at the same time? Meanwhile, I’m watching the boy from 7, Branch, go up onstage and flounder his way through his interview. He’s just a kid, thirteen, and has a terrible stutter that makes it painful to listen to. Thankfully, the buzzer goes before long and Branch is sent off to sit up top with the others.

“You’re next, Terra,” Fletcher murmurs in my ear. I jump and look at him, fingers flying to my necklace.

“Knock their socks off,” he continues, flashing me a grin that drops my stomach into my toes. _Will you focus, Terra? This is no way to behave!_

“Who’s next, do you think? I know!” Marcus announces into his microphone and the audience erupts in applause. Some woman grabs my arm and drags me out of my seat and into the wings. I glance back once to see Fletcher still sitting there, arms crossed and smirking, one side of his mouth turned up higher than the other. _But Deecey liked him,_ my thoughts scream. _Yes, but you’re also likely to die in the next few days, and so is he. No harm liking him._ I’m tired of the constant battle in my head, and it’s not even important to my survival.

“Let’s welcome out Terra Coppersmith from District 8!”

I take a deep breath and step out onto the stage; immediately I’m blinded by the stage lights and have to blink a few times to get my bearings and find my way to Marcus Fireglen.

“Hello, Terra!” Marcus says when we’re seated.

“Hello to you too, Marcus,” I say.

“How are you feeling onstage tonight? Have you ever had an audience before?”

“Never! I’m just loving it here,” I say, catching Lexa’s eye in the audience. _Smile, be determined,_ is what she says with her eyes.

“Tell me a bit about yourself; who’s waiting for you at home?” Marcus asks.

“Well, I have my little sister Iry, who’s eight,” I say, and my voice unexpectedly catches. I force myself to push through. “And my best friend, Deecey, and her mum who is like my own mother. And I just want to say I love you to them, and I miss you so much! See you soon!” I say, turning to the cameras in the audience, and I blow my family a kiss. They’ll see it, and they’ll know I love them, even if I don’t ever get to say it to them in person again.

“Isn’t that sweet!” Marcus says, patting me on the arm gently. “Sounds like you have some people you’re angling to get home to.”

“Absolutely. I promised my sister I would go home to her, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“No matter what happens?”

I nod. “No matter what happens.”

“You’ve mentioned family and friends, but do you have anyone special who’s waiting for you in District 8?” Marcus asks, eyebrow raised.

“Like who?”

“Any special boy or girl at home?”

I shake my head. _If anyone was to be special, as Marcus is suggesting, he’s not in District 8 anymore._ Suddenly I see Fletcher behind Marcus in the wings, slightly blurry from the lights onstage, and he’s grinning like an idiot. Does he ever stop? I’m exasperated with him; I can’t be focusing on him so much come tomorrow.

“Nobody like that.”

Marcus switches topics smoothly. “In your private sessions you got a 7, which is quite a popular score this year. Can you tell us how you got that score?”

“I can’t tell you everything, Marcus,” I say in a teasing tone. “I have to leave some elements of surprise for the next few weeks.”

“Terra, our time is almost up, but, as you have heard, everyone else we’ve seen on this stage tonight has said they’re bound and determined to be the victor. Do you think you can do it?”

I sit up straighter and look Marcus straight in the eye. “I’m more confident that I can win than of my ability to breathe,” I say.

“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! We have another potential victor!” The audience applauds just as the buzzer goes, and Marcus lifts me up by the hand, hugs me briefly, and whispers in my ear, “Good luck.” I smile at him, smile at the audience, then turn and make my way up the stairs to sit beside the boy from 7.

“Come on out, Fletcher Wellrock!” Marcus shouts, and the crowd applauds. Fletcher comes out good naturedly, as always, waving at the crowd. From up here I can see more of the crowd; a couple women have pink hair and one man has hair as blue as a blueberry.

“Isn’t this a fun night?” Fletcher asks, settling down in the seat I only recently vacated. 

“Absolutely! I take it you’re having fun, then?”

“I always have fun, Marcus; it’s all about seeing the good in every scenario. See, I’m nervous about audiences, but you’d never know it, would you?”

“Not until you mentioned it! Tell me Fletcher, what’s something that’s stood out for you this week?”

“Probably the food and company for me; both have been superb,” Fletcher says, flashing a quick grin. How is he so relaxed onstage? I don’t believe his nervousness bit at all.

“Tell us about your superb company, Fletcher,” Marcus says, leaning the microphone towards Fletcher.

“For starters, have you ever met my district escort?”

“I can’t say I have.”

“Once you’ve seen him, you’ll never forget him. Orange suit; obsessed with orange? Goes by the name of Postumius Opiter?”

The lights and cameras find Postumius in the audience, and he waves them off cheerfully, beaming from ear to ear with the attention. Of course he’s wearing orange, which just drives home Fletcher’s statement.

“I tell you, Marcus, it’s never a dull moment with him around. Now on the other hand, there’s my district partner, Terra, and she’s the other half of the superb company.”

“Really, Fletcher, tell us more!” Marcus says, pressing in even closer. Meanwhile I’m turning bright red and a couple of the other tributes are looking at me in confusion and suspicion. Me? I’m the superb company?

“She’s just an all-around nice girl to talk to, and I wish I could have known her better back home,” Fletcher continues, keeping that cheerful and charming smile on his face. My heart keeps dropping to my knees, picking itself back up, then dropping again. I don’t even bother telling myself to quit it. I hope Deecey isn’t taking it the wrong way at home.

“How do you feel about your chances in the arena?” Marcus asks.

“I feel pretty good about them. Really, anyone can win, so why not me? Besides, I’m the best looking out of all them, so that has to count for something,” Fletcher says, getting a few laughs. He smirks at the audience before turning back to Marcus.

“I’m going to guarantee you that there’s going to be a District 8 victor this year, and that victor will meet you back here in a few weeks. How does that sound?”

“I’d love to see you back, but I can’t pick favorites! That wouldn’t be fair, would it?” Marcus says, turning to the audience; quite a few people shout dissent.

“You can say that all you want, but I know I’m your favorite. I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Fletcher says. His buzzer sounds; his time is up.

“Let’s hear it for Fletcher Wellrock of District 8!” Marcus shouts, and the place just erupts in applause. I think that Fletcher is a crowd favorite tonight, and I can’t blame them.

I think he’s my favorite tonight too.

Fletcher comes up the stairs two at a time and sits down next to me. Surreptitiously he pokes my knee, and when I turn to look at him, he winks. Then we turn our heads to the front again; I pretend he’s not there, but I’m all too aware of his presence next to me as the next tribute, the little girl from 9 comes out.

_Would it be so bad to like Fletcher Wellrock?_

** Catalina Nightwind **

I’m so scared as I walk out onstage, but I can see Ripple and Solara and Miri in the audience, and they promised me they would encourage me, so I try to be brave for them, and for my family.

I want my mother! I’m so scared to be all alone.

“Hello there, Catalina! Aren’t you just the tiniest thing?” Marcus says, taking my hand and leading me to the interview chair.

I nod. “I think I’m the smallest,” I say.

“I think it might work to your advantage though; you’ll be able to crawl in mice holes to hide,” Marcus says, and I nervously giggle. “I hope it’s not too windy in the arena, or I’d fear you’d just blow away!” 

I pet the soft dress around me, smoothing it down on the chair. Looking at the lavender blossoms on my nails. The flowers they painted on my arms are starting to itch a little.

“What an interesting style choice you have, what with your flowers. Can you tell me about them?” Marcus asks.

“I love flowers a lot, because there’s all sorts at home. And I think it’s beautiful to wear flowers all over me; my stylists even put flowers on my nails,” I say, holding my hand up for Marcus to see.

“How beautiful! What kind of flower are those?”

“Lavender, and I love my nails a lot because my sister is called Lavender, and I miss her a lot,” I say, my voice growing a little quiet at the end.

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Three.”

“And what are their names?”

“Edel, Lavender, and Challah. I miss them a lot!” I say, and tears swim in my eyes without my meaning to. I blink them back; I can’t cry on live television. The others think I’m weak enough already.

“What does your family call you at home, if I may ask? We all want to get to know the real Catalina,” Marcus says, smiling cheerfully.

“My family calls me Cat,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Do you mind if we call you Cat?”

I shake my head.

“Well, Cat, what is your favorite thing about the Capitol?”

“My room, I think.”

“And what’s so special about your room?”

“It’s got so many neat things in it, like food that comes out like magic, and a wardrobe that gives me only clothes I want to wear, and bubbles in the bathroom,” I say, and I hear some people laugh in the audience. I also hear a quick, harsh laugh from up above and I glance up to see the girl from 2 watching me with a mean look in her eye. I’m scared of her.

“It can’t be denied that we have some fantastic inventions,” Marcus says, inspiring applause and a cheer.

“How do you feel about getting a 4 in training?” he says then, looking back from the audience to me.

“Maybe I got a low score on purpose,” I say with a faint smile. “Some people do that, you know. I’m not saying I did, but you don’t know if I’m lying or not.”

“A girl of mystery!” Marcus says. The buzzer goes then, making me jump.

“I’m afraid that’s all the time we have, but I wish you all the luck in the world tomorrow,” Marcus says. I slide out of my seat and stand next to him as he announces, “Let’s hear a round of applause for Cat Nightwind!”

I do a quick curtsy and run up the stairs to sit next to the boy from 8. He gives me a nice smile; I think he’s a nice boy.

Ornam comes out next, giving a wave to the audience and a snarky smile. That smile fades when Marcus starts interrogating him.

“What’s the thing that’s made the most impact on you here in the Capitol?”

“I liked the training; it was fun to use real weapons for once,” Ornam says. 

“You volunteered; why?”

“Nobody in my family wanted me to go, but I see this as my ticket to fame and fortune, Marcus. And I’d have to be an idiot to not claim it, don’t you think?” Ornam says.

“Well, he’s right about that, what do you think?” Marcus shouts; more applause. Once Ornam’s buzzer rings, the rest of the tributes seem to speed by.

The girl from District 10 seems clever, and with makeup coating her face tonight, she even seems pretty. The boy from that district is so dull that I can see some of the audience getting restless. He doesn’t give any interesting answers, and is so quiet he might as well not even be there. 

The girl from 11 is obviously scared, maybe as much as I am.

“How are you tonight?” Marcus asks.

“F-fine. I’m okay!” she says, eyes wide. She keeps twitching her head to the audience and the cameras and back to Marcus.

“You volunteered, didn’t you? Did you want the glory, or were you volunteering for someone else?” Marcus says.

“My cousin; she’s my auntie’s only daughter and I thought it was better if I go,” Graine says, her tone flat, but with an edge of panic in it. Marcus does her best to calm her down, but it’s really no use. At least I wasn’t that panicky.

The boy from 11 is very quiet; he’s the one who I don’t think is very well. He’s really skinny and kind of wheezes when he breathes and talks. I can hear the Careers laughing amongst themselves behind me, even though you’re not supposed to talk onstage when it’s not your turn. The boy from 8 sees me getting worried and he gives me a kind smile.

Finally it’s the last district. The girl from 12 comes out, slightly hunched with fluttering fingers. She has a tendency to duck her head, I notice.

“Tell us about your family,” Marcus says.

“I have two sisters,” Mara offers, then drops her gaze to her lap. She’s wearing a pretty dress; dark green with pleats. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, and if she would stop ducking and fluttering, she would be very pretty. Marcus doesn’t get many answers out of her before her interview ends. She climbs up and sits a few tributes down from me.

“How do you think your chances are?” Marcus asks the boy from 12. 

“Absolutely superb. Look at me, I’m the best they’ve got; anyone else who’s said that they’re the best is lying. Just you wait, Marcus, you’ll see me with a crown on my head within a week.”

“Historically, District 12 hasn’t had good luck in getting victors,” Marcus says.

“I’m going to start our winning streak,” Dussel says with a over confident smile. Then his own buzzer goes, and the interviews are concluded.

“Here’s to the tributes of the 36th Annual Hunger Games!” Marcus Fireglen shouts, and the whole audience jumps to their feet and cheers and claps for us.

The anthem plays then, and we all stand solemnly to listen to it. I twist the bracelet Challah gave me around and around my wrist.

_Please let me go home._

Once the last notes of the anthem fade out, we tributes are herded off the stage into the wings. Ripple, Solara, and Miri meet Ornam and me backstage and keep hold of us in the fight towards the elevators.

_Today we fight for the elevator_ , I think, looking around at my fellow tributes. _Tomorrow they’ll be trying to kill me._

I’m so scared, so, so scared, but Ripple grabs my hand and pulls me towards the elevator, and I don’t have any more time to think about it before the button is pressed and we shoot upwards for the last time.


	23. Recollections

** Dexsia Greentree **

I stand in the shower, letting the water wash off my makeup. I can’t believe tomorrow is the start of the Games. The past week has been so dizzyingly busy, it’s nice to have a night off. One night to relax before I go in.

I shut the water off, letting the last of it drip off my face onto the floor of the shower. Getting out, a current dries me and detangles my hair automatically, which is much nicer than the towels at home. I look in the mirror and no longer see the beautiful Capitol creation of earlier tonight. I’m just me, Dexsia. After I plait my hair into my typical braid, I look even more me. Blonde hair, my bangs just touching my eyebrows. Brown eyes that are set just a little too far apart. Me.

I wonder how my family is doing tonight, on the eve of the Games. My mother and father will be fine, I know they will; they have confidence in me. But what about Gallus? And even Lucretia, even though I don’t like her much. How are they feeling? Right now, I miss them. Maybe not Lucretia. But I miss the rest of them.

I go back into my room, pick out some pajamas and sit on the bed, knees to my chin. I have the lights dimmed, so it gives a contrast to the view out my window. The lights of the Capitol are still on, but above them I can see the dark in the distance. I’m not sure if it makes me feel lonely or not.

How am I feeling about tomorrow? I’m not quite sure, to be honest. A bit nervous, but I have no reason to be. I’ll be fine, I’ll be the victor. I’m almost relishing the thought of going in. I have allies, so I have no reason to be nervous.

Gallus’s face keeps showing up in my head, disapproving and concerned, like he was when we said goodbye.

Where did we go wrong? I remember being a little kid, and Gallus was my best friend. We played together constantly; I told him everything. I guess it started to change when Aulus took me on as his apprentice when I was eight. But not completely! We still were friends.

I guess we just grew apart. I need to get back to see my brother, and maybe fix our relationship. I’ll be rich and famous; he and Lucretia can live in luxury with us. I miss my brother, the brother I had as a child. I want to make him proud of me in the next few weeks.

I’ve got to get to sleep; tomorrow is going to be a long day. The last thing I think of is what is the arena going to look like? 

Then I fall into the oblivion of sleep.

** Dove Rosestar **

Cabel’s sitting on my bed with me; neither of us are talking. Just sitting in silence. I look out the window at the Capitol that’s still lit up, and I ache to be home.

“I didn’t know you could sing like that,” Cabel murmurs.

“I don’t like to sing for people. I wouldn’t have tonight but I couldn’t back out. Maybe it got us a few more sponsors,” I say.

“The song was familiar; where is it from?”

“Mum sang it to me when I was little. It was the only one I could think of on the spot.”

Cabel looks thoughtful. “I remember now; she sang it to me too.”

We remember Mum and home for a little bit. I miss her so much.

“Do you think we’ll make it home?” I ask quietly.

Cabel breathes out for a long time. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Dove. Whatever happens, I’m going to protect you, just as I always have.”

“Like that time those kids were teasing me outside school and you swooped in and tossed the ringleader?” I say, smiling at the memory. There was a gang of four kids that used to bully lots of younger children after school, just a nasty bunch. One day when I was probably seven, they caught me and were shoving me back and forth while I cried. Cabel appeared out of nowhere, grabbed the biggest boy by the back of his jacket, and threw him, even though he was a kid himself. He beat up the other bullies and sent them running home. Those kids never bothered me again after that, thanks to Cabel.

“See, the people we’re going to facing tomorrow are just bigger versions of those bullies,” Cabel says. “We’re going to send them running.”

“After the gong sounds tomorrow, find me, okay?” I say.

“Fabian told me to grab some sort of supplies; it’ll keep us alive longer. Run away and I’ll catch up to you, okay? I don’t want you anywhere near the bloodbath,” Cabel says.

“Don’t be reckless. Let’s just get out and go as far away as we can,” I say, grabbing his arm.

“What if we need food or something, or water? Or a weapon?”

“We’ll find them later. Just come get me and we’ll get away from the Cornucopia. Promise me, Cabel. I don’t want us to die in the bloodbath.”

“Okay, you win. I’ll come get you and we’ll run.” He looks up at me and yawns. “We should get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

Cabel pats me on the leg and moves towards the door. There he pauses, and turns back to me.

“What?” I ask.

“Father would be proud of you,” he says simply. Then the door opens and Cabel goes to his room, leaving me to face the darkness alone.

** Terra Coppersmith **

It’s no use. I’m not going to be able to sleep. I throw back the covers, grab a shawl from the wardrobe, and go out into the living room. I need a walk to calm my nerves. I keep thinking about Iry and Deecey at home, and how worried they will be tomorrow. I’m worried too; I could be dead tomorrow. 

I startle a little when I see him silhouetted in the window, dark against the light of the Capitol. Looking out, hands around one of his knees, the other stretched out in front of him. The floor squeaks when I step on a certain spot, and his head whips around to see me, wrapped in a shawl and dressed in pajamas.

“Can’t sleep either?” he says. I shake my head.

“My head won’t clear enough.”

Fletcher gestures for me to come closer, and I do, curling up in the shawl by him on the floor, leaning against one of the couches.

“What are you thinking about?” he says quietly. I can’t see his face, but my heart keeps skipping a beat anyway.

“My sister and my best friend at home. You?”

“Everything. I’m wondering what they’ll throw us into tomorrow.”

“I’ve been wondering about that myself.”

We sit in silence for a little bit, Fletcher looking out the window, me looking at him.

“I was going to ask you out back home, before the reapings happened,” he says quietly, and it takes me off guard.

“Were you?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

“Yeah. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to tell you while I had the chance.”

“My friend Deecey said she liked you,” I blurt out.

“You said before, on the training floor. She was a nice girl too, but I always noticed you.”

“Why?”

“You always seemed so nice, and you were pretty, and I don’t know. I just liked you. I was getting my nerve up all of last year, but I never did talk to you.”

“I’m sorry we’re here,” I say.

“Me too. Can I ask you something, though?” Fletcher asks, and for once he sounds serious.

“Okay.”

“Would you have said yes?”

I pause there, and I think. “I couldn’t have done that to Deecey. Her friendship means the world to me, and I couldn’t have said yes to you without damaging it.”

Fletcher nods. “I like a good friend.”

Silence for a few more minutes as we ponder the weight of our words. 

“I don’t want to be your enemy in the arena,” he says finally.

“You couldn’t be my enemy anywhere,” I say, and I mean it.

“I promise, Terra, I promise that even if we’re final two I won’t kill you,” Fletcher says, and I can see a little of his face, lit by the Capitol lights.

“Back at you,” is all I manage.

More silence. “Who do you think is our biggest opponent?” I ask.

“Definitely the big guy from 5. But honestly, could be any of them. They all seem pretty vicious,” Fletcher says.

“You had a really good interview tonight,” I say, digging my nails into my leg. My hair is falling in my face but I don’t bother to push it away.

“I’m glad it’s over.”

“Were you really nervous? You seemed way too calm for that,” I say.

“I’m not a big fan of crowds,” is all he says.

More silence; I move to the window next to Fletcher’s and look down at the streets. They’re full of people still, even at two in the morning. “Don’t they ever sleep?” I ask.

“I doubt it. They’re too excited to watch us die tomorrow to sleep,” Fletcher says. “Maybe we should get some sleep too.”

“Maybe. Probably. Almost definitely,” I say, and I shift onto my knees, wrapping the thick shawl closer around me.

“Come on, we need our sleep,” Fletcher says, finally moving out of the windowsill. He gives me a hand up and we end face to face. He’s taller than I am, and I’m all too aware of it tonight.

“Terra?”

“Yeah?”

“Your friend isn’t here, is she?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” I say, confused.

“Would it be so bad for me to ask you out right now?” Fletcher says, and his voice betrays a little nervousness in it. Fletcher Wellrock, nervous about me! My heart is singing, but my head tells me it’s a terrible idea, which it probably is.

“Think about where we’re going,” I remind him.

“We don’t have that long to live, why not make the best of it?” he says, and he’s smiling, and my heart is falling and rising at the same time, and beating at a most irregular pace.

“Maybe you’re right,” I say, smiling myself, though I’m not sure he can see it.

“Well, Terra, I like you very, very much, no matter what you say,” he says.

“I appreciate that,” I say, and I go to pull away, to listen to the logic in my head. Fletcher catches my hand.

“I’ll find you in the arena; you can’t shake me.”

“That sounds a little stalkerish,” I tease.

“What’s wrong with wanting an ally?” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“What if I want to go it alone?” I say, allowing him to pull me back in until we’re standing closer than we were before.

“Then I’ll just make sure you’re alright and drop you off all the presents from my sponsors,” he says, looking down at me.

“What if I don’t want your gifts and decide to spear you instead?” I say, looking up into his face.

“I’ll take my chances,” Fletcher says, and then he’s kissing me, and my whole being is full of butterflies, my heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears, and my head is telling me it’s a horrible idea, but I don’t care, _I don’t care._ I’m going to take whatever time I get with this boy and I am going to cherish every second of it.

He’s the first to pull away, and I can tell he’s nervous again. “I hope I didn’t overstep,” he says, and he sounds just so sweet.

“I don’t mind,” I say, and I’m smiling ear to ear, my heart is pounding still, and I feel so, so happy. So alive it hurts.

“Mind if I overstep again, then?” he says, and he’s smiling too.

“Take as many steps as you like,” I say, and this time it’s me who reaches up.

_When you could be dead tomorrow, you have to savor every bit of life you can get._

** Catalina Nightwind **

_“Cat! Cat!” Lavender screams, trying to shield herself from the boy from 12 who’s holding a spear above her, ready to kill her._

_“Lavender!” I shriek, running to her, but I don’t get anywhere, I’m stuck in place. Then Challah starts to scream farther away in a different direction, then Edel, then my parents, and my bracelet falls to pieces for no reason; I’m trying to pick up the beads when my whole family screams at the same time, and they’ve all been stabbed. I’m screaming, and I can’t do anything but watch them die._

I wake up sobbing. I’ve been having nightmares all night; I’m so scared about tomorrow! I want to go home! I want my mother and my father and my sisters, and I want everything to go back to the way it was! I’m so scared!

I bury my face in my pillow and cry for ages. My face is going to be puffy in the morning, but I don’t care. 

Why didn’t anyone volunteer for me? Someone who was bigger and older and more talented? Who had a better chance at surviving? Why did they let me go?

The clock on the wall reads four in the morning. I’m so tired, but my terror outweighs my drowsiness. Everything bad that could happen tomorrow keeps running through my head; I feel sick and terrified when I think of getting ready tomorrow and going into the arena. What am I going to do?

I’ll need to find Summer tomorrow, that’s for sure. Maybe with two of us we can outlast the others. Where are we going? Is it going to be woods or water or someplace really cold? I don’t want it to be cold; I chill very easily. I just want to go home.

For the next while I toss and turn while watching the numbers click by on the clock. Finally, around five, I fall asleep again, back into my restless nightmares.

I don’t want tomorrow to ever come.


	24. As the Metal Plate Rises

** Dexsia Greentree **

I haven’t slept much, even though I should have, when Catullus comes for me before dawn, knocking on my door.

“Come in,” I call sleepily. Catullus comes in, serious.

“Here, you’ll wear this at first,” he says, handing me a simple white dress. 

“Where are we going?” I ask, and I’m nervous now, even though I wasn’t before. This is really happening, the Games are starting today, and who wouldn’t be nervous?

“The rooftop. A hovercraft is going to come for you and me,” he says simply, leaving me to dress. My feet are bare, but it doesn’t seem to matter. I leave my pajamas on my unmade bed and put on the shift. It’s cold in the morning air. There’s really no point in changing the temperature, though. I’m leaving anyway.

Before I leave, I splash water on my face, washing the sleep from my eyes. I look in the mirror again and see myself. Will I have changed once I leave the arena? I’ve seen some years where the victor is unrecognizable; hair cut, eyes missing, eyebrows seared away. Whatever happens will be worth the fame and the glory and the money, though. District 2 will love me for it.

Turning off the bathroom light, I take one last look at my room. “I’ll see you soon,” I say in a whisper, then I laugh at myself a little. Talking to a room? You must be nervous, Dexsia.

The door opens in front of me then, and Aulus is standing there, waiting for me. Without saying a word, he opens his arms and I go into them, giving my mentor one last hug.

“Thanks for teaching me,” I whisper.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” he says. “I want to see you crowned victor, okay?” I nod.

Then he pulls back and ruffles my hair. “You’re the best student I ever had, you know? Keep that in mind in the arena. I’ll make sure you’ll get everything you need.”

“Time to go,” Catullus says, and I hug Aulus one last time, then start towards my stylist.

“Dexsia?”

I look back at my mentor for the last time. “Yes?”

“Remember who your true ally is in the arena.”

I nod once, then follow Catullus to the elevator. Cossus and Julia must have gone up earlier. I never got to say goodbye to Victoria or Titia. I’ll see them when I return, I reassure myself. They’ll be busy now, lining up sponsors for Cossus and me.

I step into the elevator after Catullus; he presses the button for the roof. I see Aulus one last time, standing and smiling at me. He nods once.

Then the doors close and the elevator shoots upwards.

** Dove Rosestar **

Cabel and I weren’t allowed to go in the same hovercraft, which annoys me. We’re allies, and we’re siblings! We should stay together. But the rules say that tributes enter the arena alone. Of course, I’m not completely alone; I have my stylist, Quintus. I might as well be alone. Where is Cabel? Is he as nervous about the arena as I am?

The arena! There’s only a few hours left before we enter, and terror is seeping in. I could be dead, Cabel could be dead, in just a few hours. Gone! Just gone!

When I got into the hovercraft, I got in alone, leaving Quintus down below. “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt much,” said a Capitol woman in a white lab coat. While some sort of current paralyzed me, she injected a needle into my arm. If I could have moved, I would have winced at the very least, maybe slapped her if I had the nerve. The current released and I grabbed my arm.

“What was that?” I asked angrily.

“Your tracker,” is all she said, moving away. Quintus, the fool, was brought up then, looking cheerful. That’s where we are now, standing in the entry way as the hovercraft takes off, leaving the Training Center behind. 

“What’s going on now?” I ask.

“We’re en route to the arena,” he says in a cheery tone, looking around the hovercraft. A girl dressed in red silently beckons us to another room, where there’s an elaborate breakfast laid out. Quintus sits down right away and pulls up a plate of pancakes. I hesitate. Will I be able to keep anything down? I should eat, especially if Cabel and I are leaving the Cornucopia with nothing. So I sit.

Breakfast is good, very good in fact. I eat as much as I can stomach; I know it’s important. I eat some fruit and a bowl of oatmeal dotted with raspberries. To drink I have hot chocolate, which is the best drink I’ve ever had in my life. 

Quintus babbles on about nothing, and I actively ignore him. What is Cabel doing right now? What is Mum doing? I’m sure she’s up and waiting for the Games to begin. I want to be with her so badly. 

“I’m looking forward to seeing what they’ve put you in for your uniform,” Quintus says, the florescent lights bouncing off his shiny blue head.

“You haven’t seen it?” I ask, surprised.

“Not until we get to the Launch Room,” he says.

“When’s that?”

“Oh, in about five minutes.”

I look out the window and see the sky and some water in the distance, but otherwise I have no idea where we are. I watch for a little while, seeing a flock of geese go by. Then, all of a sudden, the windows black out.

“See, we’re almost there,” Quintus says, taking a sip from his coffee.

I can’t speak.

This morning, Lexa said goodbye to me. Fabian and Albinia were missing, which I didn’t mind at all. Lexa told me, “I’ll get you some sponsors, just try to stay alive in there, Dove. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

I nodded, shook my mentor’s hand, then got into the elevator with Quintus. Was that the last time I’d see her?

“Finish up, it’s time to go down,” Quintus says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. I take the last mouthful of hot chocolate and stand up, my legs trembling. I allow myself to be led to the ladder, where we came up, as the hovercraft lands.

I don’t know what to expect next.

** Terra Coppersmith **

I had expected Postumius to be the one who escorted me to the Stockyard, or the Launch Room as they call it here in the Capitol, but it’s Damius instead. I’m very happy about this; Postumius would be useless, while Damius is a decent sort of character.

The Launch Room is deep underground, and I am the first and last tribute to ever use it. Damius tells me that there’s a new one built for each tribute every year. The ceilings aren’t as low as I would have imagined, but it’s all very bleak and austere; everything grey and metallic. Very Capitol.

“Go clean your teeth and shower in there,” Damius says, pointing to the bathroom. This will be my last chance to do either for a while. I go in and shut the door, turn on the water, and step into the cool, clear spray.

I should be nervous, I should be terrified, but after last night all I feel is elated. I left Fletcher in the living room after a long time; just thinking about it makes me smile. He’s somewhere down here, but tributes go into the arena alone. I’m divided between finding him or avoiding him in the arena. I don’t want to kill him, and I don’t think I could.

Not after last night.

After a short time, I shut the water off, activating the current that dries me. My hair stands out in a curly cloud around my head. I brush my teeth with the toothbrush provided, then I pull a robe off the back of the door and step out to see Damius accepting a package from some attendants.

“What’s that?” I ask, holding the robe closed around me.

“Your uniform. Let’s see what’s in here; it’ll give some clues as to where you’re going,” Damius says. He hands me some plain undergarments, which I put on, then we examine the other pieces together.

“These pants are definitely designed to reflect heat away from you; you can expect some hot days,” Damius says, handing me a pair of sandy colored loose pants. 

Next is a long-sleeved white cotton shirt, then a light brown jacket that weighs very little. I zip it up over the shirt. “You’re probably going to see some cool nights too, if they’re giving you a jacket. All of these are designed to breathe and keep you cool. I’m guessing they’re sending you somewhere hot,” Damius says. 

Finally, black socks, black high-topped boots, and a Capitol engineered tan hat.

“Don’t I look stylish?” I say, posing dramatically. I know it’s not the most attractive outfit I’ve ever seen, but it will hopefully help keep me alive.

“Did you have a token?” Damius asks, looking me up and down with a critical eye. I nod and pull out the necklace with the ring on it.

“It was my mother’s ring, and my sister gave it to me when I left,” I explain. 

He nods in approval. “How do you want your hair done?” Damius asks.

“Can you put it in a ponytail?”

Damius motions for me to turn around, then pulls my hair back tight. That’ll keep it out of my face while I’m escaping the Cornucopia. I certainly have no intention of sticking around and fighting with 22 other tributes for the goodies there. I say 22 because I couldn’t fight Fletcher.

“That’s that then,” Damius says. “Is there anything you’d like to eat while we wait?”

“Some bread?” I ask. Within a few minutes a bowl of rolls is brought in by a Capitol attendant, and Damius sit in silence while I eat rolls and drink a glass of water.

“What are you thinking about?” Damius asks after a little while and I’ve made my way through two buns.

“My family,” I say. They’ll all be watching now, waiting for the Games to start. And now it’s really becoming real; I’m going into the arena to kill people my own age so I can get out and go home.

“I don’t think I want to do this,” I say; if there was a way out, I would have taken it long ago, gone home to Iry and gone back to my life. There’s no way out. 

“You’ve got a good chance, Terra,” Damius says. “You’re smart, you’re talented, there’s no reason why the victor shouldn’t be you.”

“Do you think I can do it?” I ask, and now my nervousness is seeping in, and it eclipses my family, my friends, Fletcher, everything. I could die in an hour, and I would leave Iry to the mercies of the District. 

“I really do, Terra. I really do,” Damius says.

I don’t say anything more for a while, and neither does Damius. I keep eyeing that metal plate in the corner where I’m going to be expected to stand soon. Panic, sheer panic starts to course through my veins, making me get up and pace the room for a while.

“You should save your energy,” Damius says. “You’ll be moving enough today I imagine.”

He’s right, but with the impeding situation I just want to meltdown and scream. The reality is hitting fast and hard. I don’t want to do this! All the joy of last night has been taken away and replaced with pure terror.

“Come sit, Terra.”

I listen this time, and go sit by Damius. We don’t say anything to each other while I try to conquer my fear and get on top of it. This is what we’re doing when the voice comes over the speaker, making me jump.

“Prepare for launch,” says the robotic woman, and I look at Damius in alarm. He stands up and offers me his hand. I don’t want to take it, but I do, and I allow myself to be led over to the metal plate.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Terra,” he says, tucking my necklace in under my jacket. “Keep that safe. I want to see you wearing it onstage when you wear the crown.”

“Do you think I can win?” I whisper. He nods.

“I really do. Good luck, Terra.”

I manage a smile, grab his hand and squeeze it, and then a glass cylinder is lowering around me, and I’m all alone in the tube, watching Damius on the other side. I hate being trapped, hate it! But he smiles and nods once, so I stand up tall and try to contain my breathing. I have to be strong for Iry.

The cylinder rises with me in it; all around me is darkness. I touch the walls lightly with my fingertips, and then there are no walls, just air.

And I’m out in the blazing hot sun facing the Cornucopia.


	25. Bloodbath

** Catalina Nightwind **

Where am I? Where am I? The sun is so bright I can’t see, and it’s so hot. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, let the 36th Hunger Games begin!” Caius Glorystream says over some sort of speaker. Sixty seconds. I have to wait sixty seconds before I can run and find Summer.

Slowly, my eyes adjust to my surroundings. I’m standing on my pedestal facing the very front of the gold Cornucopia, piled high with supplies and weapons. Standing on the pedestal to my right is the District 4 boy, to my left is the dark-haired girl from 12.

Where is Summer? After looking around a little, I spot her five pedestals to my left, hair pulled back into a long blonde braid. Next to her is the girl from 2, who’s looking intently at the mouth of the Cornucopia, and on the other side is the girl tribute from 6, Dove. As far as I can see, the tributes go around the Cornucopia in a ring.

Thirty seconds to go. Where am I? What is this arena? I look over my shoulder and see a beautiful lake with palm trees; the only pool of water I can see for miles. To my right and back there’s a river, to the right and up there’s a mountain face of craggy rocks. The left holds large triangular buildings and, further down, what appears to be a cliff. 

It’s a desert. I’ve never seen one, but I think my father described it to me once.

Breathe, Catalina. At least it’s not tundra, like I feared. But now, seeing all the other tributes around me, my terror goes into overdrive. I want my mother! I want to go home!   
Five, four, three, two, one…

The gong sounds, and everyone around me is running, some towards the Cornucopia, others away. I see Summer take off towards the cliff face, as well as the boy from 12. Already there’s screaming, and I’m frozen, frozen to my pedestal. I can’t move.

I watch the boy from 1 stab the girl from 10, see her topple; the girl from 2 kills Copper from 3; dead tributes lie in the grass, eyes staring but not seeing.

I have to run, I have to run! But my legs won’t move! I’m too scared to do anything.

The girl from 12 who was on my left gets stabbed brutally in the stomach and she collapses by the boy from 7, Branch, who was so nervous in the interviews last night.

The girl from 2, Dexsia, is at the mouth of the Cornucopia with the girl from 1, looking through the supplies already. There’s blood everywhere, and tributes are escaping with their treasures all over the place. A few still fight for supplies, only to be killed by the girl from 4 and the other Careers.

The boy from 10 falls while I watch, still stuck in place, and then Dexsia turns, locking eyes on me. She smiles, a horrible, mean smile, and now my feet are unstuck, and I’m running, I’m running, but it doesn’t matter. 

I scream as she grabs the back of my jacket and hauls me to the ground.

Challah! Lavender! Edel! Someone, save me! I don’t want to die!

“Where do you think you’re going, little miss?” Dexsia says, holding me down with one arm, the other holding a sword that glints in the hot sunlight.

“Please let me go!” I beg, trying to get free, but I’m weak and she’s stronger than me. Marcus said I could hide in mouse holes, but I didn’t even get the chance to hide. 

“I’ve kept my eye out for you. How come you didn’t run?” she asks.

“I’m scared! Please let me go!” I say, and I’m crying. I can’t help it. Someone, kill her before she kills me! I struggle, but she’s got a firm grip on me, still looking at me fiercely.  
My parents are watching, my whole family is watching, and I know they’re crying as hard as I am. I promised I would go home! I promised!

“Let me go!” I scream, finally finding some strength, and I kick Dexsia in the stomach. She winces and loosens her grip on me slightly, enough for me to wriggle out from under her and start running again, tripping over the shifting sand.

“Treasure!” Dexsia yells behind me. “We’ve got a runner!”

“Let her go! She won’t last long out there!”

“I want her dead!” Dexsia yells, and then I hear her footsteps coming after me, and I’m trying to get to the river, maybe that could be my chance, but she’s too big and too tall and too fast, and she has me again.

I kick and flail and try to get away, but it doesn’t matter when she drives her sword through my back.

“I’ve wanted you dead since I saw you the first time. You were never a contender. Be glad I did it this way,” Dexsia says, standing over me after she pulls her blade out. It’s still sparkling, covered in blood. My blood. Shocked and in pain, I fall to my knees and keel over into the sand.

I want to say something, but I can’t. Dexsia looks at me for a little longer, then she runs off back to the Cornucopia, leaving me behind. Leaving me to die.

The sun is hot above me, and the sand is hot under me. “Mum,” I manage, gasping out my words. “Father, Challah. Lav. Edel.” I promised them I would come home. I want to go home so badly! And in the Capitol? Will Ripple be sad to see me dead so soon? Is he disappointed I didn’t run? I wish I had been able to run. 

Around me the sand is turning red, and my vision is narrowing. The sky is so, so blue. As blue as the bracelet Challah gave me. I pull it off, holding it in front of my eyes to see it one last time. I hope they give it back to Challah. My sisters. Is this how they will remember me? Tears stream out of my eyes; the sand is hot underneath my cheek. I’ve fallen half on my side, half on my stomach. 

I keep my eyes locked on the bracelet, my last bit of home, for a long time. A cool breeze comes by and ruffles my hair, stirring the sand up around me. My hand falls back into the sand, and I can’t move anymore. My stomach hurts, it hurts. I want to go home.

I want to go home.

I can hear screaming behind me, but it’s distant now, almost muffled. Where’s my mother? Why can’t I find her? I try to search for her with my fingers, but it’s too difficult. Why doesn’t she come for me? My thoughts are blurry, as blurry as my vision is.

The black around the edges of my vision creeps in closer and closer, until I can’t see the sky anymore. I can’t see anything anymore.

I want to go home.

There’s the last bit of sound before my ears cut it off. Some sort of bird whistle. A song.

Then there’s nothing but the dark.


	26. Oasis

** Dexsia Greentree **

Behind me, the girl from 9 bleeds out into the sand. I don’t care; she irritated me and it’s better to have her out of the way early. Surely she knew she couldn’t win? Better to kill her quickly now than of exposure later or something.

“Aw Dex, did you have to be so mean right off?” Calypso asks when I get back to the Cornucopia.

“Another tribute down, Calypso,” I say, walking around the bodies on the ground. I killed two today, as did Velvet. He’s currently sitting down in the mouth of the Cornucopia, polishing his blade with sand.

Everyone else fled, even Kouza from 5 after he killed the boy from 4. Despite the boy being her district partner, Calypso doesn’t seem to care.

“I’m going to get all sunburnt!” Treasure complains, walking into the shade of the Cornucopia.

“Yeah, so are we. Keep your hat on,” I say, kicking some sand.

Cossus doesn’t have a weapon, he’s just standing there at the edge of our crowd. I eye him suspiciously.

“Come and join us, won’t you, Cossus?” I ask sweetly. I know I’m going to have to kill him soon, but it can wait until the second day.

“What’s the priorities here?” Calypso asks, looking around. “Do we have to separate from them?” Calypso jabs her thumb at the dead tributes.

“Might be an idea,” Cossus says, walking into the circle.

“Well, why don’t we go get some water; it’s hot and we’ll need it,” Treasure says.

“And leave the Cornucopia unprotected? That’ll bring Kouza and Alyss straight away,” Velvet says, picking up another handful of sand.

“Your sword’s shiny enough, Velvet. What are you going to do, use it as a mirror?” I say, and Calypso laughs behind me. Velvet scowls but drops the sand.

“So what’s the plan, then?” Velvet says.

“Split up. Dexsia and Treasure can go for the water, the rest of us can stay here,” Cossus says.

Like hell I’m going with the dumb one, away from any plans that might be made. I smile sweetly and in my nicest tone I say, “But Cossus! What if I need a big strong man out there in the desert? Why don’t you go with me and Treasure? I’m sure Calypso and Velvet can manage themselves.”

“Aren’t you the best with the sword, though? You keep saying that,” Cossus says suspiciously. I drop the act.

“Let’s go, Cossus. Treasure, get some water bottles. We’ll have plenty to fill.”

Cossus opens his mouth to argue, but Calypso interrupts him. “Just go, Coss. Not worth the fight.”

While Treasure and I grab water bottles, Cossus picks up a spear. Velvet and Calypso sit out in front of the supplies, armed to the teeth. 

“See you soon,” I say, and Velvet rolls his eyes.

“The lake is literally right there, Dexsia. Stop being so dramatic.” I stick my tongue out at him and walk off with Treasure and Cossus.

Out of the shade, the sun is relentlessly hot. “Why did they have to drop us here?” Treasure complains. “I wanted a forest!”

“Yeah, I doubt they cared about your arena preferences,” Cossus says drily. Treasure pouts a little bit but goes quiet.

The lake is beautiful, crystal clear and blue; two palm trees sway overhead in the miniscule breeze. “Think it’s safe?” I ask.

“I am not hiking to the river, Dexsia. Just fill the containers up and let’s go,” Cossus says, holding his spear in a prepared fashion. Do I trust him? No. But I doubt he’ll kill me with Treasure being here.

While I dip the second bottle into the water, the cannons go off, eight in total. I straighten up and turn to see a hovercraft dipping down its claw to pick up each dead tribute. I recognize some of them as they go up; the brown hair of the boy from 3, the dark-haired girl from 12. Each dip of the claw brings me closer to District 2.

Last of all they pick up the girl from 9. Poor kid; she never did have a chance. I still think it was better for me to take her out right away than let her run. 

“Right, they’ve picked them up; let’s head back,” I say. Treasure nods, bouncing up.

“If I stay in the sun for too long, my face is going to be completely sunburnt!”

“Oh, get over yourself,” Cossus says, making Treasure angry again.

“Shut up both of you. Let’s go back,” I say, stomping my way through the sand.

“We’re going to need a fire tonight!” Calypso calls as I approach the Cornucopia again. I grin.

“Aren’t you glad I visited the fire-starting station now?” I ask.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re superior,” Calypso says, but she’s laughing as she says it. “Where are we going to find wood?”

“Not many trees around,” I say. “Just the two at the lake.”

“I think it’s called an oasis,” Cossus says, coming up behind me. “I remember from somewhere that a body of water in the middle of a desert is an oasis.”

“Well isn’t he a smart one,” Calypso says, poking his cheek. “Now, Mr. Scientist, find us some wood.”

Cossus slaps her hand away. “Find it yourself.”

“Rude!” Calypso says, but she does start looking around the Cornucopia for something we can use. I crawl back with her, sword still in hand. I might be in an alliance with these people, but I don’t trust them at all.

“Here! Take a look at this!” Calypso says, pulling out some sort of kit. “It’s a fire starter that you can make with sand!”

“Let me see that,” I say, taking it from her. I’ve never heard of a fire being lit with sand, but here we are.

“Get it going,” Velvet calls. “It’s probably going to cool down tonight.”

“Right, I’m coming,” I say, clambering out from the piles of supplies.

I look at my allies, all four of them, and I smile. 

They don’t know that I intend to kill each and every one of them, when the time is right.

“Here, I’ll get the fire started,” I say, and I smile.


	27. The Pyramids

** Dove Rosestar **

“What are those?” I ask, staring up in wonder. Cabel shakes his head, craning his head up like me.

“I don’t know.”

It’s been a long day. But I made it! I’m alive! Hurrah for that.

Back at the Cornucopia, I had been between the little girl from 3 and Velvet from 1. Cabel was a few tributes over, facing the side of the horn. We caught each other’s eye and when the gong sounded, I took off running, not to the Cornucopia and the bloodbath, but for the giant triangular buildings in the distance. Cabel caught up to me, holding nothing, and we’ve been running ever since. 

“Did anyone else come this way?” I ask, looking around for the first time in a while. It’s funny that I haven’t seen any tributes since this morning, but it’s a big arena. Maybe it would have been a good idea to grab a weapon, but it’s too late now.

The scenery has been very interesting, to say the least. More than once we saw a snake weaving its way across the sand, leaving a beautiful pattern in its wake. Cactuses are everywhere, and so is the shifting sand. It’s brutally hot, though, and sweat has been pouring down my face all day. I’m so scared of getting dehydrated, but I know it’s already happening.

Cabel shakes his head in answer to my question. “I don’t know. I know a bunch ran for the supplies, but I just got out and got you as fast as I could.”

“Like we planned,” I say, but my voice is hollow. I didn’t realize how difficult surviving out here without supplies would be. We don’t even have water. It might have worked in a different arena, but not in this desert.

“I know! I know what these are!” Cabel says, brightening. “They’re pyramids.”

“Where did you learn that? And what are pyramids?”

“I have no idea what they are for or where I learned it, but I’m certain that’s what these are.” Cabel looks cheerful for the first time today, having answered his mystery.

We start to walk around the buildings, trying to figure out what they are for here in the arena. There’s three of them, taller than any building back in District 6, and are a light gold color, made of both smooth and jagged stone. They’re beautiful, and they’re ominous at the same time.

“Think we should stay here?” Cabel asks. 

“The sun is setting already. I don’t think we have a choice,” I say. The sky is becoming less blue and more purple every minute, and the shadows on the sand are freaking me out. I don’t want to be in the desert when the sun sets, but what choice do we have?

I look at the pyramids more closely, then I see something I didn’t before. “Cabel, look!” I say, pointing. 

“What?” he says, instantly alert. 

“There’s an opening,” I say, pointing to a dark square maybe ten feet up the pyramid.

“What do you think is inside?” he says quietly. I shake my head. Do I really want to know?

“Think we should go in?” I ask.

“It might be safer than spending the night on the ground,” Cabel says.

“Right then. How do we get up?”

After some maneuvering, Cabel manages to scale the side of the pyramid, pulling himself up into the opening. I follow after him, and he pulls me up once I get half way. The light outside is fading fast, but the light inside the building is non-existent. An eerie chill emanates from inside, making me shiver.

“I’m not spending more than one day in here, do you hear me, Cabel?” I say, quietly. I get the feeling that there might be something in there, just waiting for us.

“We’ll move on tomorrow. We need water and food,” he whispers. He’s right. I’ve been parched all day, and the breakfast I ate in the hovercraft has completely deserted my stomach. But something about this pyramid makes me terrified beyond belief, and I don’t know why or what.

“I feel it too,” Cabel whispers in my ear. “But we have to stay hidden for tonight. The others will be hunting us.”

As the sun sets, the temperature drops until my teeth start chattering. Cabel and I huddle together for warmth. From our vantage point, I can see straight across the arena, or at least most of it. Somewhere out there, a fire is burning merrily, and I want more than anything to be by it.

The arena this year is strange. It seems flat, but it isn’t; it’s full of sand dunes that rise and lower with the wind; hiding people in its drifts. There’re few trees, only by the Cornucopia, but there are cactuses around, and sand creatures, and in the distance there’s a mountain range that gives some element of protection. I don’t know what the cliff face holds, or past the river. It’s a big arena, though. Just very hot and dry. Like my mouth, right now.

The Capitol anthem plays, with the seal lighting up the sky. Cabel and I poke our heads out of the hole to see who died today. The first to appear is the boy from 3, which means all the tributes from 1 and 2 are alive, as predicted. Then the boy from 4, the boy from 7, the little girl from 9, both from 10, the boy from 11, and the girl from 12. Lots of boys today, apparently. The seal flourishes again, then disappears, leaving us in the dark.

I just have to wait out tonight. Just tonight. 

“You go ahead and go to sleep,” Cabel says. “I’ll take first watch.”

Like I’ll be able to sleep anyway, but his plan has merits. Sometime I’ll get tired. “Okay, wake me up in a while,” I whisper back, and try to make myself comfortable on the stone.  
I can’t sleep. Everything is so strange and terrifying, and not at all where I’d like to be. I’d even rather be in the Capitol.

And it’s only the first night. The Games could potentially last weeks, but not much longer than that. The audience will get bored and demand an end.

After a few hours, Cabel ‘wakes’ me up. “Sorry to wake you up; I’m dead tired,” he says. I nod, and he falls asleep almost immediately. I can’t see him, but I can hear his steady breathing.

It’s a long, long night, and I’m very cold. I’m certain the temperature drops well below 0°, and my teeth chatter most of the night. Am I a fool for thinking of my warm bed back in the Training Center? 

Finally, finally! The sun starts to come up over the horizon, and I’m taken aback. The arena has changed completely. Well, not completely, but there’re trees where there weren’t before, over the river and to our left; it’s a proper jungle. A jungle in the desert? And how did it get there?

I’m about to wake Cabel up and show him, when a sound deep inside the pyramid stops me. A sort of clicking, hissing sound. What is it? I can feel terror seeping into my veins and muscles.

Just as I’m reaching out to wake Cabel, the first long, hairy leg appears around a corner, and I scream.


	28. More than an Ally

** Terra Coppersmith **

A small rock tumbles past me down the mountain, and I am instantly alert. Where am I? How long have I been asleep? The sun is just newly up in the sky, so not that long.

I’ve been tucked into a crevice in the rock since last night. When the gong went off yesterday, I was at the back of the Cornucopia. I mean, seriously? Who came up with the idea to put us in a ring around the Cornucopia instead of lining us up in front? It put me at an automatic disadvantage.

But anyway. When the gong rang, I went in, even though I said I wasn’t going to. Really, the desert changed my mind. When I got to the front, people were screaming and hacking away at each other, and that little kid from 9 was standing on her pedestal still. Absolutely chaotic. I paused for a moment, watching, then I grabbed a backpack from the side of the Cornucopia, successfully getting ignored by the others. Then I looked for a weapon.

The boy from 11 had a bow and arrows, the only one I could see. Obviously from my training I learned I was good with a bow, and I wanted it. He saw me eyeing him and took off running for the river. Luckily, he was the one with bad lungs, so he couldn’t run fast or far.

“Give that to me!” I yelled, running at him. He shot an arrow at me, but he was a really poor shot. Must have been the lungs. He was wheezing when I got there. Without really thinking, I tackled him to the ground and grabbed the weapons from him.

Then, when he tried to come after me, I shot him in the head.

Clear your head, Terra! Somebody’s here! Somebody had to have knocked that rock down. Unless, of course, it’s an avalanche, but I want to be awake for that too. Silently, I nock an arrow to the bow, waiting for my next victim. It better be a Career, I’m dying to take one of them out.

Another rock tumbles by. Just a natural hazard of hiding in the mountains, I guess. I have no idea how many people are up here, but I’m going to have to come down soon and get water. I’ll die within the day without it, it’s so dry here. Of course it’s dry, it’s a desert.

I can hear footsteps now, carefully making their way down towards me. I tense, bow ready. Taking a deep breath, I spring up from my hiding place and aim my weapon at the boy who’s standing there.

He throws his hands up in the air and smiles. “Hey, don’t shoot that thing at me!”

I lower the bow. “Fletcher, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I thought we were allies. Maybe more,” he says, winking and grinning at me. I can’t help smiling too, but I wipe it off my face.

“I thought that ended when we dropped in the arena,” I say.

“I told you I would come find you; didn’t you believe me?” he asks.

“I was half and half. Lower your arms you idiot,” I say, stepping up and over a boulder to get to Fletcher. He drops his arms and sticks his hands in his pockets instead.

“Got any weapons?” I ask, examining him. 

“Yeah, check out this backpack I got at the Cornucopia,” he says, spinning around so I can see it. It’s brown, which is good here, and appears sturdy.

“So, allies?” he says, sticking out his hand.

Oh, you’re so much more than my ally, I think, but all I do is shake his hand. “Allies. What’s the plan, then?”

“I’m getting low on water. Do you have any?” he asks, sitting down by me on a rock. I shake my head. The bottle in my own backpack was dry when I got it. He pulls his backpack off, opens it, and starts rummaging through it, pulling out a metal bottle. “Here, take the last of it. I have an idea where we can get more.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” I say, then drink the last of his water, a good few inches. It makes me feel better as soon as I get it in me.

“So, what do you think of the arena?” Fletcher asks after I return his now empty water bottle to him. Placing it back in his pack, he closes the bag and puts it back on.

“I think I’d prefer it to be a little cooler,” I say, leaning back against another rock.

“How come you came up here? I was having a rough time finding you before you tried to shoot me,” he says.

“I didn’t try to shoot you, I was armed. I prefer being up high to down below. And I wasn’t going towards those crazy buildings in the distance,” I say. From where we’re sitting, you can just make out the dim outlines of the triangular buildings. It’s a really big arena this year.

“It’s beautiful here if you really look at it,” Fletcher says, looking out. From our vantage point I can see a few people wandering around in the distance, but they’re miles apart.

“I wonder who they are,” I say, pointing.

“We’re all pretty spread out, I wonder how they’ll drive us together,” Fletcher says. 

“I’d rather wait to find out. Come on, let’s go find some water,” I say, getting up.

“What else do you have in that pack?” he asks. I pause. Like an idiot, I had forgotten to go through it last night. It was late when I finally found my hiding place up here, and I just focused on the weapons I got. I only opened it long enough to find the water bottle that turned out to be useless.

“I have no idea,” I say, taking it off and putting it on a flattish rock. Out of the pack I take the bottle, water purification tablets, a first aid kit, a flashlight, matches, and sunscreen.

“Brilliant! I only got sunglasses and a compass in mine with the bottle,” Fletcher says, picking the flashlight up and looking it over. 

“We should get going if we’re going to find water before the sun really hits,” I say, taking the flashlight from him and throwing it into the pack with the rest of the supplies.

Fletcher and I pick our way down the mountain, me stepping on loose rocks several times and him having to grab my arm. Am I glad he’s here? I was half hoping he would come, half hoping he would hide somewhere else where I didn’t have to get even more attached to him. Too late, I guess.

“Hey, Terra?” Fletcher asks when we’re near the bottom.

“Yeah?”

“Was the last night in the Capitol a one time thing?” he says, grinning like an idiot.

“Not now,” I say, pushing him lightly. Just then, a cannon fires. That shocks us into silence. Who was it?

Fletcher breaks the silence. “One step closer to District 8,” he says, but he swallows after he says it. We climb the rest of the way down in silence, knowing whoever killed the last person will be out hunting for us next.

“So where’s that pond?” I ask at the bottom of the mountain. The sun is getting hotter and my lips are cracking from lack of water.

“Straight ahead of us, that way. A few miles out I’m guessing,” he says, pointing into the endless desert. The sand is piled up in dunes, like giant waves on an ocean. I can’t see over them, which makes me nervous.

“Madame?” Fletcher asks, offering me his hand. I take it, and together we start climbing the hills, sand slipping under our feet.


	29. Through the Blowing Sand

** Dexsia Greentree **

The sun’s been up for hours now, and by its position I can tell it’s nearly noon. Yet none of my allies are awake. Even the cannon didn’t wake them up. I wonder who got killed, and who did it. I’ve been sitting here in the mouth of the Cornucopia for hours, sipping water and eating some sort of jerky I found in with the supplies. I opted to take the watch after midnight; I don’t trust the rest of them. They’ll have to go once the District 5 tributes are eliminated.

But I’ve had enough of them sleeping and me keeping the only watch. They can get up too.

“Hey, sleepyheads! Wakey wakey!” I say loudly, clanging my sword against the side of the Cornucopia. Treasure shrieks a little, startling awake, while the others groan and roll over when they see me sitting here.

“What’s your problem?” Cossus says, sitting up grumpily.

“I’ve been keeping watch for hours, and it’s noon. Are you really going to sleep away Day 2? Did you even hear the cannon earlier?”

“What cannon?” Calypso says.

“The cannon that went off early this morning?”

“Why didn’t you wake us?” Calypso asks, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. She doesn’t look as put together as before, and it makes me secretly happy. Not sure why.

“If a cannon didn’t wake you up, I doubt I could have. Come on, get some food in your stomach. Big day today,” I say, grinning.

“Since when did you take over?” Velvet says, feeling for his sword.

“Since the rest of you didn’t wake up until the day was half over. We have to be ready for anything,” I say.

“I really hate to admit it, but she’s right,” Calypso says, standing up. “Kouza and Alyss will probably be hunting today, and I do not want to meet them unarmed and hungry.”

“See?” I say, but shut up when the others glare at me. 

The others dig around and pull out some food for themselves, eating with bleary eyes. Calypso goes to the back and rummages around some more.

“Hey, I got sunscreen!” she says, holding up a bottle. “What do you say we do some exploring today?”

“I’m not leaving camp to go hunt down some desert idiots,” Velvet says, taking a bite out of some sort of sandwich.

“If we don’t hunt them down, then we’re just stuck here in the arena for longer,” Calypso says.

“But I don’t want to get sunburnt and tired!” Treasure says, combing out her hair with a brush she found. I roll my eyes.

“That’s what we have the sunscreen for, so you don’t get burnt. And we have to eliminate the others somehow.”

“Wait for them to come to us,” Cossus says. “There’s not a lot of water out there; they’ll have to come to the oasis.”

“And then we hunt them down, Professor?” Calypso says, tilting her head.

“And then we kill them, yes.”

“But they won’t come if we’re here,” Treasure points out.

“Then let’s hide somewhere. Wait for them to come to us. Then we strike,” Cossus says.

I start formulating a plan in my head. “We have five of us, right?”

“Obviously, Dexsia,” Velvet says.

“Well, why don’t three of us go out into the desert to make them think we’re gone, and the other two can hide and wait.”

The others weigh the plan’s merits. “I don’t see why not,” Calypso says. “And even if it doesn’t work this way, maybe the troop in the desert can take down a tribute or two.”

Velvet nods. “Sounds like a plan to me. Who goes with who?”

“I’ll stay here!” Treasure says immediately. Of course, she doesn’t want to leave the water and shade. Weak.

Calypso considers. “Velvet, why don’t you stay here with Treasure? You two must know each other well,” she says. “Cossus, Dex, and I can go out and look for some tributes. What do you say?”

“Alright,” Cossus says, but he’s clearly reluctant to go out. Why? What’s with him?

“Put the fire out,” Calypso says.

“The fire is out,” I say.

“Well then, don’t light it. The camp needs to look abandoned. Come on, pick a weapon and let’s go.”

The three of us who are leaving pull out backpacks full of supplies, including medical, food, and two bottles of water each. I slide a knife into my boot and another into my pack, then pick up my sword.

“I’m ready,” I say. Calypso has a trident, which I don’t understand because why would they give us tridents in a desert? It’s probably the best weapon for her, but why offer it in this environment? Whatever. Cossus is holding a spear. Before we do anything else, we slather sunscreen all over ourselves.

“Excellent. Let’s head out,” Calypso says, looking at Cossus and me with approval. To Velvet and Treasure, she says, “Good luck you two; see you tonight.”

“Good luck,” Velvet says.

I can feel the heat of the sand even through my boots, and the sun beats down on the three of us as we walk through the sand drifts. It’s an alien world, like how I imagine the moon would be like. It’s not quiet though. You can hear wind whistling through the dunes like some sort of humming song, and you can hear our boots on the sand. Dust blows in my face and makes me cough and my eyes sting.

It’s a beautiful but hellish place. The audience must love it. For the first time since I got in here, I think about the people at home. It’s so easy to forget that there’s another world outside this one, that this is only a creation. Remembering home reminds me that this is the Hunger Games and not my eternal reality.

We three pause at the top of one particularly large sand dune and look around. Sand and dust everywhere, except in the distance where you can see some trees by those big triangle buildings.

“I’m not going anywhere near those,” I say, pointing. Calypso shakes her head.

“I get a bad feeling about that place,” she says.

“So where do we go?” I ask.

“How about towards that person?” Cossus says, speaking for the first time in ages. He points to a distant speck in the distance of the trees.

“I thought we said we didn’t want to go near those buildings,” I say.

“We don’t have to; whoever’s out there is miles away from the buildings,” Cossus says.

“Alright, let’s go,” Calypso says, and that settles the argument. 

Going down the dune takes a bit more skill than climbing up; eventually I just slide down the best I can. Now I can’t see that tribute anymore, but we have their general direction. Only problem is, this is a big arena. I can’t even see the Cornucopia from here.

“Hold up,” Calypso says, stopping. “I need water.”

So do I, so I take one of my bottles out of my pack. The metal holds the coldness in, so it’s a refreshing drink. Then I touch up my sunscreen, readjust the knife in my boot, and I’m ready to hit the dust again.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” Calypso says, looking around in wonder. “So different than home.”

District 4, that would be oceans. Desert is pretty much the exact opposite of that.

After what I’m guessing is another hour in the hot sun, the terrain flattens out to more scrubland. There’s some bushes, and we startle some deerlike animals away.

“Watch it!” Calypso says, shoving Cossus.

“What the hell?” he says, but then he sees it, the scorpion that he was about to step on.

“Watch your step, Professor,” is all she says. 

“Where’s that tribute?” I ask, turning in a circle. There’s nobody but us out here, and it’s starting to scare me a little. The sky is blue without a cloud in it, making the arena seem endless.

“I don’t know,” Calypso says, but then her head whips around. “Shh!” she says.

Automatically my sword is ready in my hand. Who’s here? Who’s here?

Then I see him, peering over some rocks. Who is he? Together, the three of us move around to see him better. It’s the boy from 9, the one who volunteered. Is he armed? I can’t remember seeing him at the bloodbath yesterday. Trickles of sweat drip down from my forehead; my bangs are sweltering here.

Just as we’re about to attack, the boy from 9 jumps out, waving a knife. His eyes are dark and dangerous. Three against one? He’s betting on some pretty crazy odds here.

“How’s the water supply?” Calypso calls out, smirking. He obviously isn’t well prepared. I can see his cracked lips from where I’m standing.

“Just fine, thank you,” he says, giving a cocky smile back. Obviously thirst hasn’t affected his attitude. I wonder if getting speared through the heart will.

His smug look turns to horror very quickly though. Maybe he’s realizing he’s going to die, I think. But no, he’s not looking at us, he’s looking above us. Even though this might be a trick, I look up and back, and I scream.

Because there’s a giant bird with talons outstretched coming at my head.


	30. Alone

** Dove Rosestar **

When I wake up, I’m face down in the sand. Choking on dust and dirt, I roll over, only to see the blue sky above me and nothing else. Where am I? What’s happened? I’m so thirsty I think I’m dying. I probably am dying. 

With effort, I push myself into a sitting position. Where am I? There’s nothing but sand around me, and I’m alone. What on earth is going on? I hear nothing but the occasional whistle of wind as it comes through the sand dunes.

Cabel! Where’s Cabel? My foggy brain clears just enough for me to remember my brother. Is he somewhere around here? I’m so weak I can’t stand; I need water! How long have I been out here? A day? A few hours? The sun is low in the sky; I can tell it’s going to be dark soon. So where am I? I look around, but nothing gives me any clue.

There’s some cacti near me, so I drag myself over to them. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. Grabbing a rock nearby, I knock some of the cactus- leaves? Arms? Whatever they are, I break them off and smash them to bits with the rock. Like I saw in the edible plants unit at Training. There’s a little bit of juice that runs out, and I pour it into my mouth. It doesn’t taste good, but it’s better than dehydrating to death. After I get my thirst quenched a little- it’s not the best- I sit back and try to remember how I got here.

With my brain working better, I remember this morning- the spiders! I clap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. The spiders! The pyramid!

I woke Cabel up when the first leg came around the corner. “Run! Run!” I screamed. He woke up and pushed me out of the pyramid, down ten feet or so to the ground. We were fast getting out of there, but the spiders were faster. Giant, hairy spiders, pouring out of the pyramid, some of them taller than me and as wide as a truck. Absolutely terrifying. They had red eyes and giant pincers that they clacked together. I’ve never liked spiders, but six foot tall hairy spiders are worse than anything I’ve ever had a nightmare about.

“Dove, run!” Cabel screamed, grabbing my hand and making me run, because I was paralyzed with fear. But I ran after that. The spiders were faster, though. We were moving over the sand as fast as we could run, and then they caught up with us. There must have been ten or twelve of them behind us. I felt one leg grab my ankle, and then the world went mad.

“Dove! Dove!” Cabel yelled. The leg gripped my ankle tighter, then it unexpectedly let go, sending me flying. When I looked back, the spiders were blown away by a sudden wind, them tumbling back towards the pyramids. 

“Dove! Are you okay?” Cabel shouted over the wind.

“I’m okay!” I yelled, tears pouring down my cheeks. It wasn’t over, though. The wind became a tornado, whirling around me, and then it picked me up. I heard Cabel yell my name again, and then I must have blacked out, because I remember nothing else.

And now I’m here. In the middle of the desert. Alone. Drinking cactus. 

Where’s Cabel? Is he okay? Is he dead? Did I miss his cannon? Where’re the spiders? Did they go back for Cabel? Did he get kidnapped by a dust tornado? I have so many questions without answers. All I know is that Cabel is definitely missing.

My hair has come loose from the pigtails they were put in yesterday morning. I’m starving, and I don’t have any real water. Not to be pessimistic or anything, but I’m a goner. Not going for the supplies was a huge error on my part, and I regret it.

With the sun setting so fast, it’s time that I got a move on, time to get some shelter. My face and arms are brutally sunburnt, I can feel them stinging. Every time I move my head I wince. But the air isn’t as hot as it was earlier; it’s cooling now, and that makes me even more worried. What am I going to do in the dark?

I try to stand, but my legs are shaky under me. There’s no way I’ll be able to move on tonight. What about tomorrow? Think Dove, think! What did you learn in training? You learned how to throw a knife and climb some ropes, I think. I did visit the shelter unit. What did I learn?

I’m going to have to dig.

With my last remaining strength, I dig down into the sand, building the dirt up on three sides like I was taught. I had learned a shelter for the woods, for snow, and luckily, for the desert. Guess which one I’m using?

Once I get about two feet down, I pull some shrubs over and put it over top of the hole. Voila! A very poorly made desert shelter! It’s all I can do to crawl in. It’s not deep and not very long, but if I squish, I just fit. Welcome home, Dove.

I watch the sky through the holes in my roof as it turns from blue to purple and pink, and then to a deep navy blue. Then it’s black, and I can see the stars above me like I’ve never been able to see them before. The heat of earlier today has completely vanished, leaving me shivering in my hole. Please don’t let anyone find me. Let me die here in peace. I doubt I’ll last another day.

Something lands next to me, making me startle. An enemy? A desert creature that wants to kill me? A giant spider? It doesn’t sound like any of those. Curiosity gets the better of fear, and I pop my head out. I can’t see anything, but I reach my hand out and feel a soft piece of fabric. A parachute! A gift from a sponsor!

The sky lights up then with the Capitol seal, giving me just enough light to look at my prize. It’s two things, actually. One is a bottle full of actual water; when I open it, it’s still cold! The other is a pot of hot stew, along with a spoon. Thank you, Lexa!

I don’t hesitate to dig into the stew and don’t even pay attention to the sky until the Capitol seal shows again with a musical flourish, then leaves me in darkness.  
That’s okay. I have food, I have water. This will get me to tomorrow, when I find water and Cabel.

I eat half the stew, then wrap the pot up in the parachute it came in. After another sip of water, which brings it down to half empty, I curl up around my gifts and actually manage to go to sleep.


	31. Water in the Dark

** Terra Coppersmith **

“You can curl up with me; we’ll be plenty warm tonight,” Fletcher says, and I can hear him smiling, even if I can’t see it. I can’t see much right now, with it being night and all.

“We’ll see how cold I get,” I say, pulling my jacket tighter around myself. Who am I deluding? I’m going to sleep next to him no matter what. I wonder what Deecey will think.

I’ve got to stop thinking about Deecey and Fletcher! It doesn’t help my concentration in the arena, and really, when I think about her liking him, I want to punch my best friend, so it’s better if I put her out of my mind.

It took most of the day to find the pool Fletcher was talking about this morning. Surprisingly, we didn’t see any other tributes today. I kept my bow loaded just in case, though. All we saw were plants, sand, and some odd desert animals that didn’t seem to pose much of a threat. Fletcher was clearly entranced with the scenery, quietly pointing out things as we walked along. I was happy.

“So who’s left?” I ask, looking up at the fantastic stars above us.

“Not sure. Careers, us, a bunch of others scattered around,” Fletcher says. We’re sitting by the pool tonight, a distance away in case a predator comes in the night to drink. I’m starving, but I haven’t had the opportunity to shoot anything down. I wouldn’t be able to cook it anyway. I have matches, but lighting a fire right now is a death sentence. Anyone would be able to see it from miles away.

“So, Terra,” Fletcher says, interrupting my thoughts.

“So, Fletcher,” I say back.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Stay alive?”

“That’s a given, isn’t it?”

“I hope so, Fletcher.”

“Anything special you want to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, get back to the mountain? I feel safer up high.”

A pause. I run my hands over the smooth bow.

“What do you want to do tonight?” he asks, and I can hear his tone, it makes my stomach drop like back in the Capitol.

“Keep feeling and being alive,” I say again, but I can’t help smiling. This is a fight to the death that I’m in, and I’m falling in love! I must be the stupidest girl in here. I don’t really care. Let me be stupid for a while.

“Why don’t I help you feel alive right now?” Fletcher says.

“And how can you do that?” I ask mischievously. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, he breaches the gap between us and we’re kissing again; I drop my bow into the sand and just pull him closer to me. To hell with what Deecey thinks. I’m the dying one, not her. Plus she and Iry can’t see me anyway. The dark conceals me and gives me freedom.

Fletcher pulls away for a second. “I’m getting warmer,” I say. Of course I’m warmer; he’s practically sitting on me. Touching his face, I can feel his smile. Then I kiss him back and the warm feeling spreads all through my insides and out. Is it ridiculous to feel so happy in the arena?

The shuffling sound coming from a little ways away makes me pull away. Fletcher tries to speak, but I press my finger to his lips. He stops when he hears it too. Footsteps?

Unless the person has a flashlight, they’re not going to be able to see us. I silently pick my bow back up and nock the arrow again. Fletcher is unarmed, but I can feel him tensing.

The unnamed tribute is limping; I can tell by the step-shuffle every time they move. Who? If it’s a lone tribute, odds are it’s not a Career. Whoever it is drops to the ground by the pool and begins drinking like their life depends on it. It probably does. Hearing somebody so close brings me back into the Games. We’re all hidden now, but when that sun comes up there will be no hiding.

The tribute appears to have collapsed by the water and is not moving. Fletcher and I aren’t moving either. I wonder, could we kill them? I killed the boy from 11; something I haven’t worked through yet. This is not the time to do so, however.

“Should we go?” Fletcher breathes into my ear. I shake my head. Not yet.

We sit there, the two of us warm together. My leg falls asleep after a while, but I don’t dare move it. I’m dead tired, but I’m not going to sleep; not when there’s a threat right in front of me. Instead, I just lean into Fletcher the whole night, watching the stars move overhead. It’s really spectacular, the star show. 

The tribute has either fallen asleep or fallen unconscious. Either way, it seems safe to move. Fletcher’s dozed off a little, so I poke him awake gently. The sky is turning from black to a deep purple; the sunrise isn’t far off. Have we been sitting here the whole night?

“Let’s go,” I whisper to him, and he nods. As quietly as we can, we detangle ourselves, bringing life into our numb limbs. Luckily, our packs are nearby, so we slip them on silently. Without a backwards look, Fletcher and I take off walking as fast and as quiet as we can, away from the pool and the tribute.

I don’t know what we’re going to find in the desert in the dark. I’m a little scared, if I’m going to be honest. Then Fletcher weaves his hand into mine, and we walk that way for a while, hands clasped tight.

“We’ll be okay, don’t worry,” Fletcher says reassuringly, once we get a distance away.

“I know,” I say. I know because we’re together, we have each others’ backs. Nothing is going to happen while we’re together.

We’ll be okay.


	32. The Roc

** Dexsia Greentree **

It’s closing in on dawn when we finally get back to the Cornucopia. Damn it! Saying the expedition was a failure is a massive understatement.

Cossus and I finally drop Calypso in the sand right outside the horn, startling Velvet. He comes at us waving his sword before he realizes it’s just us.

“What happened?” he says, crouching down by Calypso. She’s trembling all over, and then there’s the matter of the massive gash in her leg. Cossus and I are worse for wear too; my arm is hurt and Cossus is so red he looks like a tomato. In fact, we all are red, covered in dried blood.

“This bloody bird!” I say, sitting down next to Calypso. “It attacked us!”

When the bird came down, we all ducked, screaming, including the boy from 9. Its talons clutched at air, then it soared up, getting ready to strike again.

“What is that?” Calypso yelled, waving her trident.

“I think it’s a roc!” Cossus yelled back.

“A what?”

“A roc! It’s from mythology!”'

“It seems pretty real to me,” I shouted, then I had to drop to the ground, narrowly missing the bird’s talons as they grabbed at my head. When the roc swooped up again, I finally got a proper look at it.

It looked like an eagle, but about ten times the normal size, with a giant beak and claws that could rip us apart with no problem at all. It was dark red and gold, and would have been considered beautiful except for the major fact that it was trying to kill us.

While Cossus and I were busy trying to get the bird, the boy from 9 decided that it was the best time to attack; before we could react, he had slashed Calypso in the leg with his knife. Despite bleeding from the leg, she stabbed at him with the trident, missing as he moved out of reach.

“Drop!” Cossus yelled, and I hit the sand again. Some dust shot into my eyes, making them gritty and painful. No time to get it out, though. Cossus threw his spear at the roc, but he missed, like an idiot.

“I thought you could aim that thing!” I yelled at him.

“I can! Go help Calypso!” he yelled back, and he took off to retrieve the spear. If you could throw the spear properly, you would have killed the bloody thing first shot, I thought.  
It’s very difficult to fight somebody when you’re also fighting a giant eagle thing, in case you didn’t know. Calypso was on the ground, holding the boy from 9 off with her trident, but the gash on her leg was bleeding pretty badly, and her hands were shaking.

Aulus didn’t call me the best girl with a sword for nothing, though. When the roc swooped down again, with Cossus still far away, I swung my sword and lopped off one of its talons, just as the other grazed my shoulder. The bird screamed and flapped wildly, spraying all three of us on the ground with blood. I cried out too, what with the cut in my shoulder and being soaked in bird blood. Not an experience I want to repeat.

The boy from 9, despite being covered in roc blood, attempted to stab Calypso again while she was down. I got there first, slashing his arm and making him yell.

“Get back! Get back or I’ll kill you!” I yelled, brandishing my sword. I had every intention of killing him, backing away or not, but then I got distracted by Cossus coming back, running full speed through the sand. It was still raining drops of blood wherever the eagle thing flew, and now it was flying erratically. 

“Did you do that?” Cossus yelled at me, pointing to the large leg lying on the ground.

“Yeah!”

“Good one!” he said, with the most impressed tone I’d ever heard from him.

The bird was screaming with rage as it barreled down towards us for the last time. Cossus stayed calm, then just as the beast was about to grab him, he threw the spear straight through the bird’s eye.

It dropped like a stone, skidding through the sand as it fell, and was still.

“Where is he? Where did he go?” I yelled, looking around for the boy from 9. Calypso pointed weakly to the figure stumbling away, hand clutching his arm, drops of blood making an easy trail to follow.

“Let him go,” Cossus said, grabbing my arm.

“I’m not going after him; it’s not worth it,” I said, pulling away. This would have made an excellent time to kill Cossus, but then our attention shifted to our wounded ally. I could have killed both of them out in the desert, so why didn’t I?

Honestly, I didn’t fancy being alone out there.

“He didn’t get you too badly,” Cossus said, examining Calypso’s wound.

“Yeah, well, it hurts anyway,” she said between gritted teeth. 

“Dexsia, get out the medical supplies in your pack,” he said. Without arguing I pulled my pack off and took out the first aid kit we brought.

“Damn, nothing to stitch it up with. Best thing we can do, Calypso, is disinfect it, put a bandage on it, and get you back to camp as soon as possible,” Cossus said.

“Fine, just let’s go. Give me some water first,” Calypso said, taking the bottle with shaky hands. Her teeth chattered on the metal rim. Cossus treated her wound the best he could, then turned to me next, eyeing my shoulder. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, it’s not deep.”

“Let’s get going then.”

It was hell getting back; just at the peak of one of the sand dunes the sun started to set. Calypso couldn’t walk by herself after the first half hour, so Cossus and I had to carry her, one on either side. I wanted to leave her several times, but I decided it would be a pretty cold thing to do, so I gritted my teeth and just kept going.

Once the sun had really gone down, we had to make camp for a little while. Calypso was breathing heavy by then, crying out in pain as we walked.

“Oh shush,” I said, setting her down with Cossus. “Drink something and get something in your stomach and we can keep going. It’s not safe out here without a fire.” Of course, none of us thought we would be out here at night. I expected to be back at camp by now, merrily sitting around a fire and plotting my allies’ deaths.

Once the sky was properly dark, the Capitol seal lit up. It looked like it was floating in midair, but it was really just a big screen attached to a hovercraft. There was only one face in the sky last night, the girl from 11 who must have been the cannon I heard yesterday morning. 

Once the seal had gone again, I said to Calypso, “Think you can move again?” 

“Yeah. We should get back.”

Cossus and I hoisted her up and she put her arms around each of us, hopping along as we walked. It was slow, and it was honestly aggravating, but we did it. All night long we moved slowly through the cold desert, not even sure if we were going in the right direction. All we could see was a sky full of stars, which was beautiful, even to me.

Finally, around dawn, we’ve gotten back to camp.

Treasure’s gotten up and she’s fiddling with her hair compulsively. “What happened to her?” she asks, looking at Calypso’s leg.

“Boy from 9 got her,” Cossus says. “Treasure, go find a proper medical kit. There should be one to the right.”

“Why didn’t you kill him?” Velvet asks, looking at me.

“There was kind of a big bird trying to kill us at the same time, Velvet!” I say.

“I thought you were the best, Dexsia,” Velvet says, and he’s looking at me suspiciously.

“Oh, are you upset that I got a higher score than you?” I say, my temper rising. I grip my sword tighter, ready to strike if I need to.

“Be quiet, Dexsia,” Cossus says, stepping between Velvet and me. “Quit fighting; we need to get Calypso stitched up.”

“And who are you to be telling us what to do?” Velvet asks, getting in Cossus’s face. The former is much taller than the latter and has to lean down a little to see him eye to eye.  
“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling Dexsia what to do,” Cossus says calmly. His eyes flash dangerously, but otherwise he stays neutral.

“I’m watching you, Professor. You may be smart, but you’re not stronger than me,” Velvet says, poking Cossus hard in the chest and walking away. Cossus is somehow still calm, and goes to get the first aid kit from Treasure without a word.

While he stitches Calypso’s leg up, I examine my shoulder myself. It’s not deep, so I just wrap a bandage around it awkwardly. I’ll be fine.

But by the way Velvet is glaring at Cossus, I’m doubting whether I’ll have to take my district partner out myself.


	33. Blood in the Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your reviews; they mean the world to me!

** Dove Rosestar **

I wake up in my shelter, still clutching my parcel from last night. I wait a moment, listening for anyone nearby, but there’s nobody around that I can hear. So I push the bushes off the top and sit up, stretching out my legs that have been cramped all night.

It’s a little past dawn now, the best time to start moving; before the sun comes up and burns me even more than it already has. Before I get going, I drink some more water, leaving a little for later, and eat the last of my stew. I’m going to need staying power today if I’m going to find Cabel without getting killed.

Finally, I look around me and try to figure out the best way to go. I don’t want to go towards the mountain, and I’m definitely not going in the direction of the river. As far as I can figure, I’m in the middle between the pyramids and the mountain. And by that logic, Cabel can be anywhere.

I hate to do it, but I think the best route to take is towards the pyramids again. Cabel might be around there somewhere, and I have to find him.

And so, draping the parachute over my head and then putting the hat on top, I walk away from my makeshift shelter, stew cannister in one hand, my water bottle in the other. It’s all I have in the arena.

The sun rises beautifully over the sand, sending shadows everywhere. It’s going to take me a long time to reach the pyramids, and I’m not really wanting to go anywhere near them. I think I’ll take a detour around them, so I can avoid those spiders. My heart rate picks up every time I think of them. Giant, hairy spiders grabbing my ankles… it’s too horrible to think about, let alone relive.

Nobody is around, so it gives me an opportunity to think. This is the first time I’ve ever been without Cabel nearby. I’m scared, and really paranoid because there’s a bunch of other tributes who want to kill me right now, but it’s also peaceful. Like in the Training Center, I can be just Dove for once. Of course, I want to find my brother. We’re both getting out of here alive. But for now, I can just be me. Sunburnt Dove Rosestar.

Who’s left? I know the girl from 11 died last night. So, both from 1 and 2, the girl from 4, I think the little girl from 3, the one with the really long blonde hair; pretty sure both from 5, me and Cabel of course; maybe the girl from 7? I don’t know. I’m tired of counting the others, so I just watch the sun come up.

Before long, the desert is sweltering. The silky parachute keeps my head cool for a little while, but not for long. The wind whistles through the dunes in a strange, haunting music. In some places, the sand is built up higher than a building, and it gives the atmosphere a lonely, deserted feel. It also makes me worried; anyone could be hiding in the dunes, watching me.

I wonder how Mum is faring at home. Both Cabel and I have made it to day 3. Day 3? I’ve been in the arena three days already? Time stretches and shrinks in alarming ways here. It feels like only yesterday I was in the Capitol, but at the same time, the desert is eternal. Does that even make sense?

I jump as something comes alive at my feet, and I dodge a snake that’s half buried in the sand. It hisses at me but settles back down into the sand. How many other things are waiting for me under my feet? I notice more things after that; lizards that run and slink around the hills, some birds with short beaks that flutter around, but seem to pose no threat to me. Perhaps this desert isn’t as lifeless as I thought.

Once the sun is well up, I need to stop for a drink. I’m nearly out, and that worries me. I don’t want to be stuck out here without water again; it nearly killed me yesterday, and this little water that Lexa sent me hasn’t been enough. I’m still so thirsty. Before moving on again, I pile my hair up on top of my head with the parachute, then put the hat on again. Having long, loose hair is way too hot.

Shuffled sand alerts me to someone behind me. I whirl around, gripping my water bottle and stew cannister tightly. She tries to hide, but I’d know her anywhere. Curly red hair hiding behind a sandbank? It’s the girl from 7.

“I know you’re there,” I say, my heart beating fast. She comes out, limping slightly. She holds an axe in her hand. Of course, District 7; lumber and axes.

“How long have you been following me?” I ask. Why am I making conversation with this girl? She’s older and definitely stronger than me, so why am I not running?

“Not long.”

“I’m amazed I didn’t see you before, what with your hair,” I say, gesturing slightly. I notice that her lips aren’t cracked; she’s had water in the past while. “Where’d you get the water?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she says with venom. Cedar, I remember her name from the interviews. Her name is Cedar.

Even with her leg which is obviously hurt, she’s quick. I step back quickly as she lunges at me, swiping the axe in front of my face and narrowly missing. She’s meaning to kill me, and my survival instinct goes into overdrive. I may not be strong, but I’m quick.

As she comes for me again, I run up a nearby sand dune, so I’m a little bit above her. Cedar makes a frustrated noise, then she throws her axe at me in a fit of apparent rage. That was a bad idea; she’s unarmed now, and she realizes it about five seconds after the axe leaves her hand. Armed or unarmed, though, she could kill me. The sand under my feet slips and I slide down, slamming into Cedar and knocking her over. I’ve lost my water bottle, it’s somewhere on the ground but I don’t know where, but I have my cannister still gripped in my fist. I’m freaking out, I’m scared, and I’m trying to stay alive. Forget being alone, I want Cabel, I want some help right now!

Cedar lands a punch on my face, making me cry out. “Get away!” I shriek, trying to back away, but she comes at me, fingernails bared, trying to slash my face.

Without thinking, I swing the cannister and it makes contact with her head. Cedar grabs her temple and wails, a horrible sound of pain. I’m breathing heavy, trying to get away, and then she’s coming at me again, trying to kill me still, and I slam the cannister into her head again and again until she falls back into the sand, twitching slightly.

I cover my mouth at the sight of the dent in Cedar’s temple. Oh my god, did I do that? I look down at my hand and it’s wet with blood, and Cedar’s head is bleeding into the sand and into her red hair, and she’s staring, not doing anything but moaning a little and breathing softly.

Then she stops breathing and the cannon fires.

I propel myself backwards, pushing myself away from Cedar, who’s lying in bloody sand now, her red curls spread out around her head like a halo. I killed her, I killed her! I think to myself. I’m a murderer. I can’t react now, I have to go, the audience is watching me right now for sure; I can’t show that I’m this horrified. 

Move, Dove. Move! I scramble to my feet, leaving the bloody canister where it lies. I can’t take it with me, not now. I grab my water bottle, and after jogging a distance away, I turn back and find Cedar’s axe lying in the sand. I’m armed now, but I don’t know what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling. I killed a person!

I run, staggering through the shifting sand, only looking back once; I see the hovercraft come down and pick Cedar up. The last I see of the girl from District 7 is her red hair, shining in the hot desert sun.

I killed her.

Then I turn and run, my thoughts and deeds destroying me from the inside out.


	34. A Gift

** Terra Coppersmith **

The small bird flutters around in the dirt, apparently digging up seeds. He stops when the arrow buries itself in his body. I straighten up, holding my bow, and I smile. Lunch!

Fletcher and I found another pool down in a dip in the sand, and there are trees here and everything. A little desert paradise. We’re a few miles off from the mountain, and after we eat and fill up our water bottles, we’re going to head back up.

“Look what I got,” I say, waving the bird on the end of the arrow. Fletcher’s started a fire with some wood broken off of the trees here. If the wood here is anything, it’s dry.

“Nice one,” he says, and he smiles. “Think we can roast it on the arrow?”

“After we gut it,” I say, using my arrow to cut the bird open and drop its insides out into the sand. I quickly bury them, so we don’t attract any predators.

“Now we can roast it,” I say, holding the bird over the tiny fire. It’s not the best, but it’ll do in these circumstances.

“I’m glad I came and found you,” Fletcher says, leaning back against a hill. “I’d be going hungry if it wasn’t for you.”

“If you weren’t here, I could eat this all by myself,” I tease, turning the bird around and around so it roasts evenly.

“That’s no fun though, is it? My father always told me that meals are to be shared,” Fletcher says, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“What are you going to do, Fletcher, if you don’t get a weapon soon?” I ask, changing the subject.

He shrugs. “I don’t want one. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Are you saying you’re not going to kill anyone?” I ask in disbelief.

“If I can help it, no, I won’t kill anyone. I’m not going to hurt my soul like that.”

“I killed a boy for this pack,” I say, gesturing to my backpack besides me.

“That’s you, not me,” Fletcher says, and he’s serious for once. “I’m playing these Games on my own terms, Terra.”

I know enough to drop the subject then. “Look, the bird’s ready,” I say once it’s black on the outside and well cooked inside. My ally and I make quick work of our meal. It’s not the best food I’ve ever eaten, but also not the worst. It certainly can’t compare to the Capitol food.

“So, tell me about your sister,” Fletcher says. “I know about your friends, but what about your sister? Your family?”

At the mention of Deecey, my cheeks flush. I don’t know if she knows about last night, but if she does, I don’t really want to go home and face her. Maybe I have an excuse for going after the boy she wanted, and I know she’s the forgiving type, but I still feel kind of bad about it.

Not bad enough to stop kissing Fletcher, mind you.

“Her name is Iry, and she’s eight,” I say, cleaning my arrow in the sand. “It’s really just her and me now that my father’s dead, and I love her pretty much more than anything else in the world.”

I look at Fletcher and tilt my head slightly to the side. “What about you? Who’s in your family?”

“My parents and my two brothers, one older, one younger,” he says, looking off into the distance. He seems preoccupied today, and I’m not sure why. I look down and swirl the orange sand around into flowers and other patterns. Orange. I start to laugh and can’t stop.

“What’s so funny” Fletcher says, grinning like he usually does again.

“I’m just imagining Postumius in here with us; can you imagine him wandering around in the desert?” I say, and then we’re both laughing at the idea of our idiotic escort shuffling around in the sand.

“He’d be looking up at the sky waiting for a parachute to bring him a drink,” Fletcher says, and we just howl. It’s really funny to think about, and it’s even funnier when a parachute actually descends into our midst.

“Well, would you look at that,” Fletcher says, picking the bundle up by the parachute. “Woven and Shuttle must think we’re funny too.”

“Open it,” I say eagerly. Our first sponsor gift! 

Fletcher unwraps it to reveal a black handled knife; smooth near the top and serrated near the hilt.

“Looks like they think you need a weapon,” I say. “That’ll come in handy if we decided to bring down some bigger prey.” I’m not thinking about animals, though.

“How’d you get that good with a bow?” Fletcher asks, looking from his knife to me. 

“I practiced for three days and I guess I was just naturally good. Not sure, really,” I say.

The sun is really, really hot today, hotter than yesterday for sure. The Gamemakers must be cranking the heat up in here. I lean forward and splash my face with water. When the ripples cease, I can see my face. I look a mess; my hair is standing out around my head in tangled knots; somehow the hair tie that Damius gave me got lost.

“Want to head back up to the mountain?” Fletcher asks, looking at me. I pause for a moment, then nod. Maybe it’s foolish to leave the water, but I’d feel safer if I was up high.

“Let’s go then,” he says, offering me his hand. I take it and he pulls me up. I put my backpack on, nock the arrow I was holding onto my bow, and we set off.

We don’t talk, we just walk in silence. We see nobody, just some birds and the occasional lizard that scurries away from us when we get close. It’s a haunting world, one in which you can truly believe that you are the only people left on Earth.

“What’s that?” Fletcher asks, grabbing my arm. I listen but don’t hear anything but wind.

“The wind?” I say, but he listens harder.

“That shuffling sound. Listen!”

I listen again, and this time I hear it; soft padding through the sand. It doesn’t sound like a tribute. What is it then?

Fletcher abruptly pushes me around a hill, knocking sand into my hair. I start to protest, but he covers my mouth and comes around to hide with me. What is he doing?

I understand when the big cat comes into my line of vision.


	35. Death of an Ally

** Dexsia Greentree **

I’m just sitting back at the oasis, polishing my sword with sand like Velvet does when he’s bored, watching the argument go on at the Cornucopia. I don’t want any part of it, but I don’t have to strain my ears to hear what they’re saying. I’m sure everyone in the arena can hear Velvet and Cossus arguing.

“Tell me again, Professor, tell me again why we should go back out and look for the tributes,” Velvet says, shoving Cossus. Cossus is obviously ticked off, but he stays calm, at least as far as I can see. Velvet is quite a bit taller than my district partner, and older, but it doesn’t faze Cossus.

“I’m not waiting for the others to come to us; that didn’t work yesterday, now did it?” Cossus says loudly. It really didn’t; nobody came to the camp while we were gone. 

“So we wait for them to die of thirst or heat,” Velvet continues.

“No, we hunt them down!” Cossus says.

“We tried that yesterday, idiot, and it got me stabbed!” Calypso says.

“It was a fluke. Normally, if we’re going to kill someone, we also don’t have a ravenous bird trying to kill us as well,” Cossus says. He’s holding a knife at his side; even from here I can see his arm twitching, wanting to stab. Oh this should be good.

“Well I’m not going after anyone,” Velvet says.

“Why? Because you’re a coward?” Cossus says, and that really sets Velvet off. Oh, do be careful, Cossus. Mouthy people become dead people really fast in here.

“You shut your mouth, 2!” 

“Worried you’re going to disappoint Daddy back home?” Cossus says, starting to back away. Smart thing to do; I can practically see the steam pouring out Velvet’s ears. Why is Cossus riling him up like that? I thought he was smarter than that. Maybe his smarts are limited to knowing what an oasis is.

“Shut up, Cossus!” Treasure says, finally chiming in. She’s in the shade inside the Cornucopia, and as far as I can see she’s irritated and bored. Again, not the brightest bulb.

“You watch your mouth, Professor,” Velvet growls, getting even closer to Cossus as the latter starts backing away slowly. I’m not very well liked, I know that right now, so I’m not going to even wade into this conversation. I just watch from a distance; I’ve stopped cleaning my sword and instead have it gripped in my hand.

“If you’re not man enough to go find the others, then I’ll go,” Cossus says.

“If you’re breaking the alliance, I’ll kill you before you get five feet,” Velvet says in a dangerous tone.

“I’m not breaking any alliance. I’m going to find some tributes and make some cannons go off,” Cossus says, and he actually backs up to go and leave. I’m rising from my spot at the edge of the water, about to start getting involved, when Velvet reaches out and grabs Cossus by the front of his jacket.

“You want cannons, boy? I’ll give you cannons,” he says, and without hesitating he jerks Cossus’s head to the side. The cannon sounds as Cossus drops into the sand like a ragdoll. Eyes staring, neck askew. 

That’s that, isn’t it? I didn’t have to kill him. Really, I’m pleased as punch about it. That is, until Velvet turns to look at me and points.

“Are you going to desert us too? Cause if you are, you can join the Professor.”

“Hey, I wanted him dead too. You just took him off my hands. Bloody idiot, thinking he can just up and leave,” I say, coming closer but still keeping a healthy distance from Velvet. If he comes at me, I’ll have to kill him, which means I’ll have to kill the rest of my alliance as well, and I just don’t feel up to it today. Too hot.

“You were district partners; did you have any plans together?” Velvet says, still accusing me.

“I wanted him dead while I was still in the Capitol, Velvet. Can you imagine living with him in close quarters for a week? That’s what I had to do, can you imagine?” I say in a cheery tone. I need to deescalate the situations; Velvet is looking like he wants to wring my neck next. Me, the girl who got a higher score than he did.

“Let her go, Velvet. The boy’s dead, that’s enough for today,” Calypso says, but she’s eyeing me too. None of them trust me, and they really shouldn’t. I’d kill them all in an instance if I needed to. 

Velvet looks like he wants to say more, but then he backs down. “Fine. Get the boy out of here,” he says to me, then goes back into the Cornucopia. 

I don’t really want to touch Cossus now he’s dead, but I don’t think I have a choice. Still holding my sword in one hand, I grab one of Cossus’s wrists with the other and drag him a distance away. He’s limp and really, really heavy, but I manage it. No weakness now, Dexsia.

“Bye Cossus,” I say, looking down at my former district partner. Part of me is glad that he’s gone, and that I didn’t have to take him out, but the other half is a bit sad that he’s dead. Nothing I can do about it, so I leave him in the sand to await the hovercraft’s claw.

Back at the Cornucopia, everyone is quiet. Tensions are running high, and it’s only day 3. There’s a ton of tributes out there that we need to eliminate, and we’re stuck here, arguing amongst ourselves. I’m not putting forward any plans, though. After Cossus getting killed for wanting to hunt the others, I doubt my putting it forward again would go over well.

I go back to my spot at the oasis and start cleaning my sword again, sweat dripping down my face. I don’t think this alliance is going to last long, so what does that mean for me?


	36. Desperate to Forget

** Dove Rosestar **

I crash into the trees at last and fall to my knees. I’ve been running and walking all day, getting away from the place where I killed her. I killed her. Little bits of her interview come back to me, how she was going to win for her aunt, how pretty she looked. She’s dead now, because of me.

I can’t handle this, but I have to. I finally got out of the desert and now I’m in the forest a distance away from the pyramids. No spiders, thank goodness, but also no Cabel. Where is he? He’s not dead, I know he’s not dead. Is he hiding in the trees somewhere?

I hear something, a crunching of leaves a little ways off. I grab the first tree and climb; I’m good at that, I remember from Training. I get myself up and concealed just in time, for the tributes from District 5 stop right below my tree, too busy arguing to notice me.

“So where are they? We haven’t seen anyone since that District 11 girl. And I know the Careers are dying for us to go meet them,” the girl says. She’s holding a mace, which I haven’t seen anywhere else before now, and the boy is holding a sword. I hardly dare to breathe.

“I told you, Alyss. I saw the boy from 6 go in here. And we both know that Dussel is down in the ditch.”

“Let’s get him then,” Alyss says, shaking her hair out of her face. They haven’t spotted me yet, and I hope they never do.

“Not yet. Let’s take out a few more before him.”

“Yeah, if we can find them, Kouza. They haven’t driven us together yet, which is pretty odd if you ask me. Something’s going to happen soon.”

“Two cannons today. We can wait,” Kouza says. Alyss is obviously not happy about it, but she only slams her mace into her palm a few times instead of answering.

“Let’s go. Make camp for the night,” Kouza continues.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Alyss says, walking off ahead of her ally.

“Shut up!” Kouza bellows this last part, and then both go silent. They’ve obviously taken up this forest as their territory. I should escape, and fast. They’ll be watching, though. Better I stay here for the night. I’m up high and as safe as I can get for now.

Plus, they saw Cabel go in here. This might be my only chance of finding him. I wonder where he is. Does he know that I’m here? Pretty unlikely.

Now that Kouza and Alyss are out of earshot, I start examining my surroundings. Why did they put a forest in a desert? It doesn’t make sense to me. This isn’t a typical forest either; it’s more of a jungle. The trees are tall and rubbery, with vines crawling over them. I can see light through the trees to my left, where I came in from the desert, but light barely comes through the leaves above me. If the desert was a world of light and dark, this forest is a world of twilight. Strange animals make hooting and shouting sounds; bugs buzz around my face as I slap them away.

It’s a completely different world.

Night is falling quickly now, quicker than it usually does I think. And with the dark comes the cold and the thirst and the hunger of nighttime. I’ll need to find water tomorrow, that’s my first priority. Then, food. I’m armed now, which helps, but not much. I turn the axe over and over in my hand, trying to forget who I took it from.

The anthem plays, and the Capitol seal shines down even through the foliage. Quickly and carefully, I climb higher in my tree, to see who is in the sky tonight.

Once the anthem ends, everything is dark for a second. Then the faces appear, simple headshots like the ones we had when they showed our scores. The first is the boy from 2, which surprises me. He seemed pretty capable back in Training, so I wonder how he got taken out.

The second is Cedar from 7, looking solemn, curly hair around her face. I only see her for a few moments before the Capitol seal is back with a flourish, then the sky goes dark.  
So, alone for the second night in a row, but this time I don’t have a warm stew to comfort me. I hope that Fabian is helping Cabel through like Lexa helped me last night. Oh, where is my brother? Mum must be beside herself at home. I wonder what she thinks of me killing Cedar.

I can’t think about that girl! It’s tearing me apart inside! This is why we’ve been dropped in here, why I’m in this arena; it’s to kill each other, but it’s killing me too. This is why my father was a rebel, why Cabel was a rebel too. It’s because the Capitol is cruel enough to do this.

Cabel’s words come back to me and run like mice around my head. Father was a rebel and so am I, father was a rebel and so am I, father was a rebel and soami, fatherwasarebelandsoami- stop!

I curl up on my branch the best I can. I untie the parachute from my hair and comb the knots out with my fingers. I plait it back again, tying the end with an edge of the parachute that I rip off with my axe. It calms me and helps me try to forget.

It’s cold here, and the forest is eerily quiet. I almost miss the desert, where I could see the stars above me. I don’t feel safe in the trees, but really, do I feel safe anywhere in this arena?

I want Cabel. I need to find him tomorrow. This was never the plan; we were never supposed to be on our own! My joy at being alone for once has completely faded; I need an ally.

I need my brother.

I doubt I’ll sleep tonight, what with being twenty feet off the ground. But I hold on tight to the trunk and try to forget today.


	37. Injured

** Terra Coppersmith **

“Come on, you can do it! Come on!” I beg and encourage at the same time. He hops a little farther, then falls into the sand just at dusk.

“Are you okay? Please, please be okay, Fletcher!” I say, trying desperately to turn him over onto his back. We’ve made it so far, I can’t lose him now. Not after today.

“Shh, Terra. I’m okay,” Fletcher says, managing to roll over, but his voice is strained. 

“We can’t climb tonight. I’m going to hide you somewhere down here until tomorrow,” I say, looking around me in the dying light. We’re at the very base of the mountain, but with Fletcher hurt, we can’t go up. There’s boulders over there that form a little cave I think.

“I’ve got a hiding place, come on,” I say, helping Fletcher up. He groans but doesn’t complain as I half help him, half drag him over to the rocks and set him down as gently as I can.

It all started earlier today, when we hid from the lion. A lion! I’ve never seen one in real life, obviously, and I hope I never do again. I didn’t even know lions could live in the desert. In the arena, anything is possible apparently.

Fletcher kept his hand over my mouth, not daring to move. I hardly dared to breathe. Fletcher and I looked at each other, then back to the lion, which hadn’t seen us yet. It sniffed around, looking for something.

Then my eyes met the lion’s, and it roared, like no real lion. Does a lion have a mouth full of teeth running back towards its throat? Does a lion have four-inch-long claws that are razor sharp and shine in the sunlight? Does a lion have three sapphire blue eyes, all filled with hatred?

This was no lion.

“Mutt!” Fletcher screamed, pushing me out of its path as it ran at us. More like sprang at us, jaws open wide. I screamed and rolled, down another hill. When I landed, I was choking on dust, but I still had my bow and arrows. Fletcher had rolled too, but the mutt was on top of him, snapping at Fletcher’s throat as my ally fought him off with the knife.

I nocked an arrow quickly and sent it flying into the side of the mutt, which roared and sprayed fire, which lions typically don’t do I don’t think. It focused on me, giving Fletcher enough time to roll out of the way of the flames. I nocked another arrow and aimed it at the lion mutt’s eye that was in the middle of its forehead. 

It hit the eye, spraying blood everywhere as the mutt thrashed and screamed. In its pain and fury, it turned on Fletcher and slashed his leg, sending blood everywhere.

“Fletcher!” I screamed, then nocked another arrow, sending it flying into the lion’s flank. It did nothing but infuriate the mutt more. Fletcher, though badly bleeding, managed to stab the thing through the heart while I hit it with another arrow. Finally, it lowered itself, shaking, and died.

I ran to Fletcher, examining the wound. It was deep and bloody, and I almost threw up to see it.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he kept insisting. He really wasn’t. “We need to get out of here.”

I grabbed the parachute that came with the knife- thank goodness they sent it! And wrapped it around his leg in a makeshift bandage. Then, we hurried away from the place as fast as we could- which, with Fletcher injured, wasn’t very fast.

Darkness falls and the air grows cold. “Stay with me, Fletcher. Okay? Stay with me,” I say, keeping close to him. He’s badly injured, and I don’t know what to do. 

The Capitol seal shows up in the sky and Fletcher and I watch to see the boy from 2 and the girl from 7 have died today. “Two more down,” Fletcher says, but his voice sounds hollow and pained. I know he doesn’t want anyone to die, but what choice do we have? And what am I going to do with him?

“Okay, we’re going to see if we can get this fixed up,” I say, suddenly remembering that I have a first aid kit in my backpack. Stupid, Terra! I pull my pack off and open it up, taking out the flashlight. Even a little bit of light is welcome, but it only shows me how ill Fletcher looks. 

“Isn’t that pretty?” Fletcher says smiling. “Now I can see you. Life just got better.”

“Oh shush. Let me see your leg,” I say, pulling away the ineffective parachute bandage. If anything, it looks worse than earlier, but it’s not bleeding as heavily. It makes me feel ill to see it, but I’m the only one who can help him right now.

If he hadn’t found me, I could have been happily hiding in the mountains, ally free. Looking out only for myself. But what would that make me?

I can’t leave him, and I’m glad he found me. How could I be without him?

I rifle through the first aid kit, taking out antiseptic and a roll of bandages. No stitching material, which is annoying.

“So, Doctor Coppersmith, what’s the plan?” Fletcher asks, regaining his cheeriness. 

“I’m going to disinfect it and wrap it up tight,” I say, already uncapping the antiseptic bottle. With shaky hands, I pour some over the wound, making Fletcher hiss with pain.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Never been better, thanks for asking,” he says with gritted teeth. 

“The worst is over I hope,” I say, screwing the cap back on the bottle and setting it in the kit again. I then pull out the roll of bandages and wrap it around and around Fletcher’s leg. It looks better wrapped up, more contained. He’ll be alright, he has to be.

“Thanks, Terra,” he says as I put the kit back in my backpack. “I owe you for that.”

“For what? Wrapping you up?” I ask.

“Yeah; you could have left me out there, but you helped me back.”

“As if I’d leave you,” I say.

“It’s the Hunger Games. One victor. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did,” Fletcher says, trying to find a comfortable place in the rocky sand.

“We’ll come to that later. I’m glad you’re my ally,” I say.

Fletcher grins at me, that old grin that still makes my stomach plummet into my knees. “How glad?” he asks.

“Aren’t you supposed to be injured?” I say, getting up with the flashlight. A sudden thundering in the sky above me startles me and makes me lose my train of thought.

“What now?” Fletcher asks, looking up as well.

The rain starts suddenly but heavily, soaking us through in minutes. It’s going to be a miserable night being cold and wet at the same time. 

Fletcher pulls out our water bottles and sets them to fill up again. “Free water,” he says grinning.

“You’ve got water, I’m going to get shelter,” I say, looking around for things we can use. Even with the heavy rain I can see around with my flashlight, and I spy some bushy plants off to the side about six feet away.

“Fletcher, give me your knife,” I say, and he hands it over willingly. Quickly, I hack down the bushes and drag them back to where Fletcher is sitting. Just like that, the rain stops, the clouds disperse, and they leave us with the star filled sky again.

“Quickest rain shower I’ve ever seen,” Fletcher says, putting the water bottles away.

I think back to Training and the shelter station. First with the knife and then with my hands, I scoop a hole out next to Fletcher, big enough for both of us to fit in. I’m starving and my arms are weak and shaky right now, but I do it anyway. Fletcher sits and watches quietly. After a little while, he tries to help me, but I shoo him back to sitting. He’s hurt, I’m not.

Finally, after ages of digging, I get the hole finished. Then I take the bushes and lean them against a rock above the pit, making a primitive roof. Hurrah, our bed is complete. And I’m exhausted.

“Looks great, well done,” Fletcher says, grabbing my hand.

“Here’s your knife,” I say, handing the blade back to him. He smiles and keeps it loosely in his right hand. The other stays holding my hand.

Something drops behind me, making me shriek a little. “I’m sorry!” I whisper, clapping my hand over my mouth.

“It’s fine; look!” Fletcher says. I turn the beam of the flashlight to where the noise came from, and it’s another parachute. Two in one day!

“They must like us up there,” Fletcher says. “Let’s go to bed then open it.”

“Okay,” I say, grabbing the precious parcel, then helping my ally down into the pit. There’s just enough room for us to both squeeze in, though it’s tight, and long enough for us to lie down in. I’m proud of myself tonight.

“I opened it earlier, it’s your turn,” Fletcher says. We’re half lying down, half leaning against the wall of the shelter; sticks keep poking him in the head.

Carefully, I open the cannister to reveal a full meal; meat, potatoes, buttery green beans, beets. Capitol food. How much would this have cost? I know now that we have good sponsors, and it’s the best thing that’s happened all day.

“Eat half and save the rest for tomorrow?” I say, smiling widely.

“Sounds like a decent plan,” Fletcher says, and he’s looking just as thrilled.

“Bon appetite,” I say, taking a forkful of potatoes.

“And the same to you, Madame,” Fletcher says, and we both smile.


	38. The Girl from District 3

** Dexsia Greentree **

Welcome to Day 4, in which eleven tributes are dead and thirteen are still alive. Fortunately, I’m one of the thirteen. There are way too many people still alive in here for Day 4, if you ask me. I volunteered for the night watch again after taking a nap at sunset. That was a risk in itself, but there was no way I would go to sleep tonight with tensions running so high.

The sunrise is beautiful this morning, after the rainfall we had last night. It was short lived, and I didn’t get wet because I was in the Cornucopia, but it made the sand smell sweet. The sky is pink and purple with streaks of orange. I’m used to seeing the sunrises now, but this one is particularly beautiful.

I wonder how my family is doing at home. These Games are going to drag out, I can feel it, so what do they think about that? Is my mother worried about me? I can feel Gallus’s disapproving look all the way from District 2. I doubt he liked the fact that I killed the small girl from 9, but it was better than letting her go. I’m surprised the other twelve-year-old from 3 is still out there. How is she staying alive?

Someone stirs behind me, and for a second I think it’s Cossus, before I remember he’s dead. Aulus would be happy. He wants me to win, and I didn’t trust my district partner, but I’m still a bit glad that I didn’t have to kill Cossus. And anyway, it’s not my dead ally, but Calypso who’s gotten up.

“That’s pretty,” Calypso says, coming to sit beside me. “You see this every morning?”

“Pretty much. This is the nicest one I’ve seen yet, though,” I say.

“I see why you volunteer for the night shift,” she says, leaning forward on her knees with her elbows.

“Day 4,” I say. It’s odd that she’s joining me at this hour. Usually the others stay asleep for a long time.

“It’s crazy that it’s only been four days. Do you miss home?” she asks, looking at me. Her green eyes look innocent enough right now, but she’s looking for something in me. What does she want?

“Not really. I’ve been waiting all my life for this moment, and now that I’m finally here, it’s amazing,” I say. It’s not really that amazing; I’m not fond of the desert, but that should sit well with the audience. Dexsia Greentree, an eager victor! Unlike some of the idiots I’ve seen throughout the year who look shell-shocked and terrified, I’m going to be powerful.

“I’m not the biggest fan of the desert,” Calypso says, looking out at the sand. “I’m more of an ocean girl myself.”

“You would be, coming from 4,” I say. She’s unarmed currently, so I don’t think she’s intending on killing me right this moment. So I lean my sword next me and unplait my hair, combing it out with my fingers.

“Those two are still asleep, right?” Calypso says, suddenly hushed, looking behind her. Velvet and Treasure are asleep in sleeping bags towards the back of the Cornucopia. I can see their steady breathing from here.

“Yeah?” I say, starting to braid my hair back again.

“This alliance isn’t going to last, Dex,” she says.

“What are you saying?”

“You’re strong, you’re a good fighter. Velvet is only picking fights, and Treasure is useless. What do you say we start our own alliance when they’re eliminated?” Calypso says.

“So we get rid of them,” I clarify, tying my braid at the bottom. She nods.

“What about Kouza and Alyss?” I ask. “Velvet might be useful in killing them.” And the boy from District 12, but he’s been a no show so far, so I don’t mention him yet.

“We can take them. There’s two of us and two of them, and you’re the best swordswoman here. We can take the District 5s out easily,” she says.

“So when do we do it?” I say, glancing back at Velvet and Treasure, who are still very asleep.

“Tomorrow, I think. Give Kouza and Alyss another chance to get here. Day 5 should be sufficient,” Calypso says. “Allies?”

“Allies,” I say.

And just like that, everything has changed.

“What’s going on?” Treasure asks behind us, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She seems confused as to why Calypso and I are sitting together talking.

“You should have seen the sunrise; it was unreal,” Calypso says cheerfully.

“Why are you up?” Treasure asks.

“Leg was bothering me,” Calypso says, gesturing to her bad leg. It doesn’t look all that bad, actually.

“Will you all shut up?” Velvet grumbles. “Some of us are trying to sleep.” 

You’ll be dead soon, I think. Might want to be awake as much as you can.

“Oh cheer up, Velvet,” I say, grabbing my sword again. Really, I’m ready to kill him now when Calypso grabs my arm.

“Look!” she says, pointing out beyond the oasis. I squint, trying to see what she’s pointing at.

“What?” I ask.

“Tribute!”

Velvet and Treasure are on their feet in a second, each grabbing a weapon; for Velvet it’s a sword, for Treasure it’s a knife.

“Who is it?” Velvet asks eagerly.

“I don’t know, I can’t see them clearly,” Calypso says. I see them now, too; a faint blur in the distance. I’m amazed that Calypso could see them in the first place.

“Shall we go see who they are?” I ask, and for once Velvet agrees with me. Calypso gets up, steady on both her legs. She’s been healing well since her run in with the boy from 9.  
Together, we run past the oasis, towards the tribute in the distance who gets closer and closer. She sees us- it’s a girl- and she takes off running, as fast as she can, towards the river. I recognize her hair and short stature.

“Girl from 3!” I yell, not that it matters. She’ll be dead soon no matter where she’s from. 

“Damn she’s fast!” Velvet yells in frustration. She’s quick, very quick, and she’s sprinting across the sand like a deer. Her blonde hair flies out behind her, whipping every once in a while when she looks back at us. We’re coming, little girl!

It’s a long way to the river, but she keeps running, and we keep running after her, keeping up a steady jog as we go. It’s not hot yet, since the sun hasn’t full risen in the sky. I scan the skies every few minutes for more eagle mutts, but none have appeared. I’m amazed that Calypso has been able to keep up, what with her leg, but she keeps on with us, holding her trident tight in her right hand. 

Finally, after what feels like years, the girl reaches the river, and we’re right on her heels.

“Where’re you going, sweetheart?” Calypso calls out, and Treasure and I laugh.

“She’s not going anywhere!” I say, turning my sword to get a better grip on it. The girl’s frightened eyes are so blue I can see them from where I stand. She’s definitely seen better days; her cheeks are hollow and her lips are cracked. Either she has sponsors keeping her alive, or she’s been very lucky or resourceful. Day 4 is quite an achievement for a twelve-year old.

Velvet starts towards her, sword held threateningly. Treasure hoots and laughs, showing off her knife. She’s so irritating, I think we should kill her first.  
The girl steps away from the approaching Velvet, backing into the river. The water laps at her heels.

“She’s going to try to cross it,” I say to Calypso. 

“There’s nothing on the other side but a few trees,” she says. “She’ll be easy to kill there.”

For a girl from District 3, she’s not afraid of water, which surprises me. Velvet starts to go in after her, but Calypso calls him back.

“Let’s see if she makes it first,” she says.

“I want to kill her, not see her drown,” Velvet grumbles, but he backs out and comes to stand by us. And really, it’s a good thing for him that he does.

The girl from 3 gets halfway into the river, which isn’t that deep, only up to her chest, and she’s small, when the ripples start about four feet away from her. Something’s wrong.

“Get back,” I say, and the others listen. The girl stops, startled; all eyes are fixated on that rapidly churning patch of water. My heart beats fast.

Rising from the river is a giant hippopotamus; I don’t know how I know what it is, but that’s what it is. Only it has razor sharp teeth and is bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. Before we can react, it rushes through the water towards the girl from 3, who screams once, a terrible, high pitched scream of fear.

She’s still standing, frozen, when the hippo mutt attacks, cutting her in half instantly and dragging her body under the water as it crashes down in the ripples. A bloom of blood rises to the top, staining the blue water purple. A cannon fires, echoing throughout the arena. I feel sick when I see the bottom half of the girl from 3, bobbing to the surface by the mutt; blood pouring from her severed torso.

“Go! Run!” I scream, shoving my allies backwards. I’m horrified at what I just saw, at the blood that’s still spreading and washing up on shore with the churning water. The hippo mutt is still thrashing around, and I’m scared it’s going to come after us next. “Run!”

And we run. The mutt stays behind, preoccupied with its current victim, but we flee back to the safety of the oasis and Cornucopia. My heart beats loudly in my ears; the image of the District 3 girl’s death keeps playing over and over in my head. I wanted her dead, but not like that. Twelve dead, half of us are dead now.

Twelve left to play.


	39. Lost and Found

** Dove Rosestar **

The cannon jolts me awake. I haven’t slept much anyway, being perched in a tree all night. I wonder who got killed. I don’t think it’s Cabel, but the thought sends chills up and down my body.

I have to find my brother today. 

The jungle comes alive around me; birds singing and moisture dripping from the trees. I’m still holding my axe in my hand, thankfully. I need food, and I need water, that’s for sure. I’m not really trusting the water from the trees. Watching previous Games throughout the years has made me wary of poison.

Kouza and Alyss are nowhere to be seen, but I don’t dare go down to the ground. They could be hiding anywhere. All of the trees seem to be intertwined, making easy bridges from each tree to the next. If I’m careful, I’ll never have to go down to the ground to get through the jungle.

Using a nearby vine, I make a sort of belt for myself; then, using other vines, I tie my axe and water bottle onto my makeshift belt. My hands are free to keep me alive.

I stand up, careful not to slip on the dew-covered branch. I’m a long way off the ground. Slowly, I reach out and take hold of a neighbouring branch, hanging on tight, and I pull myself across to the next tree.

This must be a long shot. I don’t know where Cabel is, or even if he’s in this jungle. Kouza said that he had seen him come into the jungle, but I don’t know if he’s stayed or not. 

Oh, Cabel, where are you?

Something hoots in the distance, but I don’t pay it any mind for now. I see snakes slithering up passing trees, bright colored birds float overhead. Why there is a jungle on the edge of the desert is beyond me, but it’s beautiful in here. Cooler than out in the sandy heat, too.

Over the next few hours, or what I figure it must be, I see nobody. Only the jungle creatures around me; a monkey once or twice, more birds, more snakes, small mammals that climb above me and stare down.

Sunlight filters down to where I am through the thick foliage; lighting up only little bits at a time. I’m deep in the jungle now, and I’ve seen no sign of Cabel, or of anyone to be honest. I decide to sit down for a little while on a thick branch, to figure out what to do next. I’m about as safe as I can get right now, so far away from any other tributes. To give my hands something to do, I undo my hair, comb it out, then plait it back again, tying the bottom with the parachute.

I feel almost safe up here in the canopy of the trees. Nobody can spot me from down below; the only sounds I hear are birdsong and the occasional hoot of a monkey. It’s a far cry from the desert, and from District 6, too. This is a place of beauty. 

Out of the corner of my eye I see something peculiar, something that doesn’t quite fit in with the trees and ferns and vines. Looking more closely, I see something maybe ten feet away, on the ground. Light brown and tan against the dark green floor of the jungle. An animal? What animal has that coloring? And why do those colors seem familiar? 

I’m wearing those colors.

That’s a tribute.

I scramble to my feet, fumbling for the axe on my belt. Who’s left? The boy from 9? Dussel from 12? Carefully, ever so carefully, I inch my way through the trees, until I’m right above the sleeping tribute.

He’s lying under a tree, jacket covering his head, curled up. It’s a boy, I can definitely say that. But who? Looking closer, I see the black hair, and I recognize the familiar form, the person I’ve seen almost every day of my life.

Cabel.

“Cabel!” I say as loud as I dare. Nothing. “Cabel!”

He stirs a little, then jerks awake, terror on his face. “Cabel!” I say, louder now.

“Dove?” he says, looking around. I could cry for how happy I am. “Where are you?”

“Up here!” I say, and he follows the sound of my voice until he finds me. He jumps to his feet and climbs up to join me in the tree, slipping once or twice. As soon as he’s steady, I throw myself into his arms and burst into tears.

“I can’t believe I found you,” I sob.

“Where have you been?” Cabel asks, pulling away to look at me. “What happened to you? It’s been two days, Dove, I thought you might be dead!”

“I got blown off course between the pyramids and the mountain, and it’s taken me this long to get over here,” I say.

“How did you know I would be here?”

“I heard the boy from 5, Kouza, say he saw you go into the jungle. I was just hoping that you would still be in here today.”

Cabel looks thinner than the last time I saw him, and his eyes are more alarmed somehow, but he’s here, my brother is alive!

“What happened to you?” I ask.

“I was going to come after you; I saw the tornado take you away from the pyramids, when the sand around me funnelled up into another tornado, lifting me off the ground and hurtling me thirty feet towards the jungle. I blacked out, but when I came to it was dusk and I booked it into the jungle. I know Kouza and Alyss have been using the front of the jungle as their base, so I came back here.”

“I found you,” I marvel. This is the best stroke of luck in four days.

Cabel examines me up and down, and his eyes come to rest on the axe. “What’s that?” he asks.

“An axe.”

“Where did you get it?”

I’m not ready for this conversation. I have to tell him, though. “From the District 7 girl. Cedar.”

Cabel looks at me with questions in his eyes.

“I killed her,” I say simply.

“You killed the girl from 7?”

I nod. 

Cabel pauses, obviously trying to find the words. “You’re here now, that’s the important part,” he says, but I don’t think the fact that his little sister killed someone sits well with him. He’s blinking too often right now, and his mouth is a grim line.

“What do we do now?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.

“We hide here until the rest of them are dead,” Cabel says simply. “I know where we can find water, and then we can make a shelter for tonight. We can live here,” he says.

It’s a wonderful plan and idea, and I’m about to agree, when Cabel cries out in pain, grabbing at his leg. Within seconds he’s convulsing, and before I can even react, he falls off the branch and hits the jungle floor below.

“Cabel!” I scream, not caring who hears me. I climb down to my brother as fast as I can, falling over a root and landing next to him. Cabel is writhing on the ground, eyes rolling back into his head so only the whites show. I’m so scared, what should I do? 

“Cabel! Cabel!” I half beg, half shriek, trying to figure out what’s happening. What’s going on?

The pieces of the puzzle come together when the black and blue snake slithers away from my brother, away into the jungle where it disappears. Terror seeps into every muscle, every fiber of my being.

I pull up Cabel’s pant leg and see teeth marks, and the world comes crashing around my feet. Cabel stops spasming, becoming horrifyingly rigid instead. I’m trembling all over, my teeth chattering together with fear and shock.

“Cabel?” I say, sobbing. I feel for his pulse, for his heartbeat, but both are faint and growing fainter.

“I just found you,” I cry, holding my brother’s hand. My brother, who has always protected me, who I loved above everyone else in the world, who I always trusted. Who was a rebel, a student, a friend, a brother, a son. Who I vowed to take home no matter what.

Who I promised myself would be crowned victor beside me.

But all I can do is sit by and watch him slip away, his hand growing slack in a matter of seconds. The cannon fires.

And I am truly alone.


	40. Calm Amongst the Storm

** Terra Coppersmith **

The second cannon of the day jolts me back awake. Automatically I reach out for Fletcher, and he grabs my hand.

“Still here, Terra,” he says with a smile.

“I wonder who that last one was,” I say, pulling myself up to a sitting position. One cannon went off this morning, this last one after noon. The sun beats down hot around us, but Fletcher and I stay moderately cool in our den.

“Eleven left,” Fletcher says, stretching. We’ve been sleeping on and off today, because really, where do we have to go? I crept out earlier this morning, after the first cannon, and stumbled across a little pool of water, so we’re set for water. Plus we’ve been eating the rest of the food we got last night, so we’re sitting pretty happy.

“That’s good news for us,” I say, shifting some sand under me to make it more comfortable. Is it really good news? It’s getting closer to just being Fletcher and me, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I push it out of my mind for now.

“So, what do you want to do today?” Fletcher asks, grinning.

“How about we stay out of sight all day?” I say, smiling back. Iry and Deecey will be happy to see me safe and hidden. I miss them so much. I wonder how Iry is doing, watching me.

“I think that’s a beautiful plan,” Fletcher says.

“Let’s take a look at your leg before we do anything else,” I say, reaching for the bandage. Fletcher helpfully pulls his leg up so it’s easier for me to reach. Carefully, I unwrap the wound and have a look at it.

“Honestly, it’s better than yesterday,” I say. The mutt didn’t get him that deeply, now that I look at it in the daylight, and it’s stopped bleeding. “I’ll put more antiseptic on and throw another bandage around it, and you should be fine.”

“Excellent,” Fletcher says, leaning back against the soft sand wall behind us. He hisses a little bit in pain when I disinfect the wound again, but he doesn’t cry out. I bandage it up again, and take the old and bloody bandages out to bury them. 

I’m pleased with our shelter; it looks rustic enough that it could pass for just some scrubland among the rocks. I doubt we’ll be seen, at least from a distance.

When I crawl back in to Fletcher, he’s regained his good spirits after his first aid experience. “As I was saying,” he says.

“As you were saying,” I say, sliding down beside him.

“What should we do today?”

“Sitting here is good enough for me,” I say, but my stomach is fluttering like an idiot. I’ve practically been living with this boy for three days now, why is it still doing that?

“You’ve been saving my life,” Fletcher says, rolling onto his side.

“I have been. You owe me now,” I tease.

“Can I pay my debt?”

“In any currency you like,” I say. Fletcher reaches over and kisses me, running his hands through my hair. My stomach keeps dropping down and soaring again; everything is beautiful, so beautiful.

He pulls away finally, and I smile widely. In some ways, coming to the arena is the best thing that’s happened to me. I’m able to forget the rest in favor of this one moment.

“Saving your life is a pretty big debt,” I say. “That doesn’t half cover it.”

“Well excuse me, madame,” Fletcher says, pushing my hair back from my face. “Allow me to pay you a little more.”

The afternoon is one of the most beautiful ones of my life. After a while, Fletcher goes out briefly and comes back with a handful of desert flowers, little white things. The most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen. Smiling, Fletcher decorates my hair with them, until I’m wearing a white garland.

“Thanks,” I say, and this time it’s me who leans in.

Fletcher murmurs against my cheek, “Is it too soon to say I love you?”

I pull back and look him full in the face. He looks nervous, like he did the night before the Games. I shake my head.

“It’s not too early for anything.”

I kiss him again, then whisper, “I love you too.”

Isn’t life beautiful?


	41. Fireside

** Dexsia Greentree **

I sit in the Cornucopia, looking out at the sunset over the oasis and the sand dunes. We’ve all been affected by the horrible death of the District 3 girl. At least I gave the other small girl a quicker and less painful death. 

Velvet and Treasure sit across from each other in the Cornucopia, throwing an apple back and forth. Calypso is practicing some fancy moves with her trident out in the sand. In front of me is the fire I lit about ten minutes ago, already merrily crackling. Our spirits are all pretty low. Every once in a while I poke the fire with my sword, stirring up new flames and coals and making it crackle.

I wonder who the other cannon was this afternoon. This morning there were thirteen in the arena, now there’s only eleven. And four of those are sitting right here. Things are going to change tomorrow, I can tell you that. Eleven left to play.

As I watch, the sun dips below the dunes and the air grows cold. Calypso stops her practicing and comes over by me to warm her hands, stabbing her trident into the sand. “Tomorrow?” she whispers. I nod. Tomorrow.

“What’re we having for supper?” Velvet asks, coming over to join us. 

“You could eat that apple,” I say.

“I want some real food!”

“An apple’s not real food?” I ask.

“Not for a man!”

“You’re not a man, you’re a boy. If you were a man, you wouldn’t be here,” I say, and Velvet rolls his eyes.

“I found a dried chicken dinner! Add water and eat!” Treasure says, coming over with a small package. As usual, she’s oblivious to what’s going on around her. But hey, she has food!

“Sounds good enough for me,” Calypso says, pulling out one of the water bottles. We have five stacked up for our use back in the Cornucopia. Before long, we have a chicken and potato meal cooking in a pot over the fire. It’s just as good as anything we got in the Capitol.

“Thank god for the Capitol!” Velvet says, ripping chunks off a chicken leg like some sort of savage.

“Yes, what would we ever do without them?” Calypso says dryly. I don’t think she’s as enamored with our unofficial captors. As for me, food is food, and this food is good.  
As we finish eating, the Capitol seal floats up in the sky accompanied by the anthem.

“Let’s see who got the cannon this afternoon,” Velvet says, leaning against the wall of the Cornucopia. I’m interested to see that myself.

The first face in the sky is the girl from 3, of course. Pity for her, she was a pretty little girl. The second is the boy from 6; I remember him from training and from his interview. I didn’t think much of him. Then the seal appears again and the sky is dark.

“The boy, wasn’t he the one with the sister?” Velvet asks.

“She’ll be devastated!” Treasure says.

“Maybe she’ll die soon too,” I say, licking my fingers. “She was so irritating, singing during her interview.”

“Aw, I thought she sounded pretty,” Calypso says. It’s funny, but this is the first time I’ve ever felt a true alliance between all of us. It’s a real pity that it ends tomorrow with Treasure and Velvet dead.

Suddenly, a parachute comes floating down from the sky. Velvet whoops.

“Who’s it for do you think?” Calypso says, looking at the large package underneath the silvery fabric.

“Dexsia, you open it!” Treasure says. Pleased to be nominated, I reach for the package.

“Why does Dexsia get to open it?” Velvet asks, an edge to his voice.

“Cause she told us to get away from that mutt today!” Treasure pipes.

“Let it go, Velvet,” Calypso warns.

“Whatever,” Velvet says.

“Here, you open it, Velvet. I don’t mind,” I say, pushing the gift towards him. It’s not worth fighting about it to me. Without another word, he opens it and the rest of us crowd in to see what our sponsors and mentors have sent us.

“Marshmallows!” Calypso says happily, pulling out the white fluffy squares, along with four long metal sticks.

“Thank you sponsors!” Treasure says, blowing kisses to the sky. Thanks, Aulus, I think. I know he must have had a hand in this gift. Just the thing to raise our spirits.  
It’s a good evening after that; I eat probably six or seven marshmallows after I’ve melted them over the fire, and Velvet must eat ten. Calypso and Velvet play a game where they try to throw a marshmallow into each others’ mouth, which ends with lots of laughing.

The girl from 3 fades from mind, until all that matters is here and now. I don’t even linger on the thought of having to kill two people tomorrow. I’m content with the now.

“We should get some sleep,” Calypso says finally. “I’ll take the night watch if that’s alright with you, Dex.”

I don’t think she’s going to kill me tonight, not after our agreement this morning. Do I trust her? Not really. But I trust her enough that I know she isn’t going to do me in tonight.  
“Yeah, sure. You can see the sunrise for once.” 

I follow Velvet and Treasure back into the Cornucopia, leaving Calypso by the fire, looking out at the dark oasis. I pull out a sleeping bag and climb in; the bag is warm and gets warmer the longer I lie in it. It’s going to be a comfortable night.

Velvet’s asleep as soon as he pulls his own sleeping bag up around his shoulders. Treasure fiddles with a pillow for a few minutes, then her hair, before she falls asleep. I look towards the entrance, to see Calypso looking back at me.

“Tomorrow,” she mouths, and I nod. Making sure my sword is by my side within arm’s reach, I allow myself to drift off into sweet nothingness.


	42. Parting is a Sorrowful Task

** Dove Rosestar **

I sit, huddled in a tree, waiting for the sun to rise. It won’t, not for a long time yet. The faces in the sky only just faded. One was the little girl from 3. The other was my brother.  
I’ve cried until there’s no tears left in me. I looked for Cabel for two days, and he was taken away from me in less than a minute. After he died, I stayed by him for hours, holding his hand. I knew if I left he would be taken away by the hovercraft and I’d never see him again. So I stayed with him. Felt him grow cold; until you couldn’t even tell that he had breathed and laughed and lived.

What is Mum feeling? Her son, her favorite, is dead. We all knew Cabel was her favorite, but he was my favorite too.

What am I going to do without him?

When the sun began its decline in the sky, I knew it was time to leave Cabel, no matter how much it hurt. I squeezed his cold hand one more time. “Bye, Cabel,” I whispered, then walked away from my brother into the bushes. I wasn’t going to stay where he died. It was time to move on. The jungle fell silent around me as I walked, except for one high bird call. 

When I looked back, my brother was gone.

I threw some rocks and sticks, furious at the world. Furious at the Capitol. I swear, if I ever get out of this hell, I’m going straight home and joining the rebellion myself. The Capitol killed my brother with their Games and their snakes. I hate them!

I stumbled upon a small pool after a little while, which is what Cabel must have meant when he said he knew where he could get water. I filled my bottle and sipped from it for a little while. Numb, I feel numb. I want to scream but I can’t. Not here.

I recognized some berries that were in Training, and I stripped the bushes and ate as much as I could. I bundled the rest up in a big leaf, and I have it sitting here beside me in a tree fork. I stare off into the distance, which is just the dark. What now?

“What am I going to do?” I say aloud. There’s nobody around to hear me speak. I don’t want to stay in the jungle another day, even if it means easy food and water. I can’t be where Cabel died, where there are snakes just waiting to kill at any moment. I have to get out to the desert tomorrow, one way or another.

The jungle at night is quieter, but never silent. I can still hear little crackles as something small moves around, something flutters overhead. I’m so scared. I had Cabel, and now I’ve lost him, and I’m all alone in the arena. Dove alone. I don’t want to be alone. It crosses my mind to find another ally, but who would ally with me now? And who would I even want? There’s nobody.

Cabel’s last moments play over and over in my head, and they won’t leave me alone. How he fell, writhed, and went still. How he died less than a minute after we made plans to live here, away from the other tributes. I bury my face in my hands, though no more tears come. I’ve cried myself out.

I’m so alone, more alone than I’ve ever been in my whole life. Even when I was lost in the desert, I knew that I was going to find Cabel, that it was temporary. I’m broken, and even if I get out and go back to District 6, nothing is going to be able to put me back together.

A song comes to mind, an old mourning song from District 6. I need to sing it, for Cabel. He would have wanted it. I start quietly, hugging myself, my voice hoarse.

“Remembrance is a sweet flower,  
I remember you, my friend.  
I saw you at your deathly hour;  
I saw you at your very end.

Forgetting is a bitter rose,  
I won’t forget you, my friend.  
I was with you at your close;  
My strength to you I did lend.

Parting is a sorrowful task,  
And I will miss you, my friend.  
Wish me well is all I ask;  
Until I see you again.”

It’s sung at funerals, when we say goodbye to someone we love. And I loved Cabel, my brother. My friend. I think back to the night when he told me he was a rebel. When he told me that if he died I should go on without him and win. That’s what he wanted, so that’s what I’ll do. He knew he wouldn’t get out alive. I have to, to keep his memory alive.  
If I don’t, he’ll just be another tribute, forgotten easily.

I doze off a few times, but snap back awake after a few minutes. I’m too scared to sleep for long. After a while, a long while, I realize that I’m not going to be able to sleep. I might as well move on and use the cover of darkness to get out. I take another sip of water and a handful of berries. It’s time to go.

I climb down from my tree perch and try to decide which way to go, which way is easiest to get out of. To my left, there’s thorn bushes and other nasty things; to my right is denser forest. Not the way I came in. The only two ways left for me are forward and backward. I reluctantly realize that to get out of here, I’ll have to go back the way I came in.

“You can do this, Dove,” I say, trying to make myself feel braver than I am right now. “You crossed the desert alone. You survived the spiders and the tornadoes and the tributes.” My voice catches on tributes. Killing Cedar has splintered me inside. Between her and seeing Cabel die, I’ll never get myself put back together.

“Focus, Dove.” Somehow, speaking aloud to myself makes me feel better. Time to go.

With one last look around, I set off through the jungle. Is it usually this cold in the mornings?


	43. A Shift in the Weather

** Terra Coppersmith **

The sun rises over the dunes, sending beautiful streaks of pink, gold, and purple into the sky. “It’s gorgeous,” I say to Fletcher.

“It’s not as pretty as you,” Fletcher says, flicking my hair. 

“Stop it,” I say, but I don’t mean it. “Is it always this cold in the mornings?” I ask, shivering.

“Maybe this is just a cool morning?” Fletcher suggests, stretching.

“It’s not cool, though, it’s downright cold,” I say, climbing out of our den. The word I would use to describe it is crisp. Like winter, almost. It’ll warm up again this afternoon, and I’ll be wishing the cold stayed, I’m sure.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Fletcher asks.

“We need food. Water’s not a problem, but we definitely need some game today,” I say, reaching for my bow and arrows. Grabbing these was certainly a good idea, but as I pick them up, the tribute I took them from flashes before my eyes. I put the boy from 11 out of my mind. It hurts inside to think of him.

“Welcome to Day 5,” Fletcher says, climbing out after me. His leg is much better, I can tell. I wish I could have stitched it, though. Never mind, he’ll be okay.

“Day 5 already?” I say. “We’ve been in here for almost a week now.”

“Time flies,” Fletcher says, zipping his jacket up to his throat. “I wonder how everyone’s doing back home.”

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” I say. Iry and Deecey won’t be awake yet, but I send good thoughts to the both of them. “I hope my sister is doing okay.”

“You’ll see her soon,” Fletcher says, smiling reassuringly. But if I see my sister, that means you’re dead, I think.

“What do you say we go hunt?” I say, changing the subject.

“Let’s wait a bit. Sun’s only just come up,” Fletcher says, looking up at the sky. “Besides, look at those clouds. It looks like we’re in for some rain.”

The clouds that are quickly overtaking the sky are dark, storm grey. Maybe Fletcher has a point. And maybe Woven and Shuttle can send us some more food, if we’ve got the sponsors for it.

“They’ll be driving us together today,” Fletcher continues. “I feel it. We’re all spread too thinly in the arena; they’ll want some action.”

“How do you think they’ll do it?” I ask, still looking at the sky.

“I don’t know.”

We watch the sky for a few minutes, trying to figure out what’s going on. I think something’s going to happen soon, like Fletcher said. 

“How do you think Postumius is doing?” Fletcher asks, grinning at me. “I wonder if he’s still on his orange kick.”

“I hope not, it was dreadful,” I say, then laugh. “Remember how they had to drag him away after the Opening Ceremonies?”

Fletcher laughs too. “And everyone was looking at us.” It was humiliating in the moment, but now that most of those people are dead, it’s not as embarrassing anymore. Just a funny memory.

“I hope he changes his color for next year,” I say, then a horrifying thought hits me. “What if he goes and dyes himself orange to finish it off?”

“They’d never allow him back to District 8,” Fletcher says solemnly, which causes us both to laugh.

Something cold lands on my cheek, making me jump. “What was that?” I say, looking around. Another falls, then another.

“What the-” Fletcher says, looking at the sky. 

“What’s going on?” I say, suddenly scared.

“I think it’s snowing.”

“Snowing? In the desert?” I say doubtfully. Now that I look at them, the clouds do look like snow clouds.

“That would explain the coolness,” Fletcher says grimly. Snow? This will be the end of some of us; we’re not dressed for winter weather. They dressed us for heat and sand, not cold and snow.

“So what do we do?” I say as the flakes start to come down heavier. They’re fluffy and icy cold, catching on my eyelashes and curls. 

“The temperature’s going down,” Fletcher says. “We need some better shelter than what we have here.”

“We could climb up the mountain and see if there’re any caves or nooks or something up there we can hide in,” I say, looking around for our options.

“Might be our best shot. I’ll grab some water, before that pool freezes over. I know it’s going to,” Fletcher says, picking up the water bottles. Suddenly I’m scared that the storm will get worse and I won’t be able to find him again.

“I’m coming with you,” I say, grabbing his arm. He looks at me, and nods.

“Together,” he says.

“Together.”

We gather up our gear as quickly as possible, slinging the packs on our backs. We’re just about to start out when Fletcher holds me back.

“Nock an arrow,” he says. “There’s people coming.”

“How many? How can you see?” I ask. The snow is falling even harder now, making it difficult to see long distances. Are those shapes in the distance what he’s talking about?

“There’s a few, not sure how many exactly. But I saw some figures coming closer through the storm. We’re in for some company.”

“I hope it’s not the Careers,” I say. “There’s more of them than any of us.”

Fletcher and I look at each other, then at the approaching tributes.

And the snow falls faster and heavier than ever.


	44. Wasteland

** Dexsia Greentree **

“We’re in for a change in the weather,” Calypso says, looking at the sky. She’s sitting out at the entrance to the Cornucopia, trident balanced across her lap.

“Looks like rain,” Velvet says, coming back from the oasis after filling up some of the water bottles. As usual, Treasure is in the back combing her hair. I know today is the day, the day that the alliance breaks. I feel tense, but I’m trying not to show it.

Something is going to happen with the weather today too. I think Velvet might be right about the rain, but the fact that it’s cooler today than it has been for the past five days leads me to believe something else might be going on.

I fiddle with my sword, drawing pictures in the sand outside the Cornucopia. “Nice flower,” Velvet says offhandedly as he passes me with the water, stacking it up with the other jugs.

“Thank you,” I say. I’m ready to strike, whenever Calypso decides it’s time. She initiated the initial plan to break, so I’m going to let her take the lead. I can hold my own anyway, against any one of these people. I’m not going to die today, they are.

“Look what I found!” Treasure says, coming out from the back with something black in her hands. Her high-pitched and cheerful voice grates on my ears, especially when it turns whiny. Everyone’s up early today, and it’s irritating. Getting their living in while they can, I guess.

“What is it?” I ask, putting my hand out for whatever she’s holding.

“Binoculars! They were buried under some food!” Treasure says cheerfully, waving them around.

“Give them here,” I say, and Treasure hands them over. “Oh, these are excellent.” Looking through them, I can see all around the arena as though I was there, even though the light isn’t very good right now. The sun isn’t even really up yet. This is a game changer for sure; with these I will be unstoppable.

I zoom in on the mountain area, and at the base of it I can see two figures. “Two tributes sighted,” I say, squinting to see better through the lenses. Damn this dim light!

“Which ones?” Calypso asks, taking the binoculars from me. “Oh, it’s the District 8s.”

“What are we going to do about them?” Treasure asks, bouncing up and down.

“Velvet, what do you say we go take them out?” Calypso asks, turning to our only male ally. I can read her plan; we can take out two tributes at once, and then kill Velvet and Treasure in the desert.

“Alright,” Velvet says, more readily than I would have thought. “I hate that kid from 8, the boy. Thinks he’s such a smooth talker.”

“Well, gear up because we’re going to go kill him,” I say brightly. “Dress warm, it’s a cool day.”

“I can notice that for myself, Dexsia,” Velvet says grumpily, but he goes and finds another layer in one of the crates. While the other tributes are probably starving and dying of thirst, we’re living the good life. We have more supplies here than we’ll ever use.

Calypso arms herself with a trident, Velvet with a sword, and Treasure with two knives. I pack two knives along with my sword. The plan is, two of us are coming back. One of them is going to be me.

“Ready?” Calypso asks. I nod.

“Let’s go kill some tributes,” she says, and we start out, Treasure complaining about the wind chill.

The sun’s barely starting to come up when we start out, and the whole arena is grey with shadows. The wind whistles through the dunes, and it chills me to the bone.

“I don’t remember it being this cold,” Treasure says, shivering. 

“It hasn’t been, that’s why,” Calypso says. The wind blows against us, making me stagger a few times. 

“What’s going on up there?” Velvet asks, looking up at the sky.

“Storm?” I suggest. After that, the wind is too cold and too strong to talk, so we walk in silence for the next hour or so.

When we’re about two thirds of the way to the mountain, the first snowflake falls.

“What the hell was that?” Calypso says, wiping her cheek. Another falls, then another, until we’re caught in a snowstorm.

“Who ever thought to put snow in a desert?” Treasure asks.

“I’ll give you three guesses,” I say, fed up with the girl. I want her dead first. I’ll be doing her District a favor. I doubt they even want her back.

“Should we turn back?” Calypso asks in doubt. I am not leaving until four tributes are dead! 

“No, we’re almost there,” I say, and we plow on. Velvet starts to grumble after a little bit, but I just ignore him. Enjoy being alive, Velvet, because you’re not going to be for much longer.

Slowly but surely, the mountain begins to take shape in front of us, climbing tall into the sky and then disappearing in the snow.

“Where are we?” Treasure asks, looking around. 

“The mountain is literally right there,” I say, pointing with my sword. I can’t see the tributes yet, and I don’t know if they’ve seen us. The snow isn’t letting up; if anything, it’s getting worse, and the temperature’s plummeting.

Very clever on the Gamemakers’ part; who would have expected a snowstorm in a desert? Not me, that’s who. I’ll bet the Capitol people are glued to their sets right now, even though it’s so early in the morning. I wonder what my family is thinking of this.

“I see them!” Calypso says, loud over the howl of the wind.

“Let’s go,” Velvet says, and we break into a run, fighting against the storm.


	45. Standing in Oblivion

** Dove Rosestar **

I keep growing colder and colder, crashing my way through the jungle. I need to get out; it’s been hours and I haven’t seen the end yet. What is the weather doing? Even the jungle creatures are confused; the birds are silent and I only hear the occasional call of a monkey. Otherwise, it’s quiet, so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat.

I’m so alone, in the quiet and the dim light. The dark green trees overhead, the vines and roots that crawl across the ground, tripping me at every other step. I didn’t bother to go through the treetops this time; I need to get out of this jungle as fast as I can. Unfortunately, it isn’t very fast. My water bottle and the axe handle keep knocking against my sides, bruising me black and blue.

There! I see light in the distance, leading out to the desert beyond. It’s oddly colored light, but it’s light all the same. I duck behind a tree quickly, because I also see Kouza and Alyss, sitting on a fallen log side by side. I’m just close enough to overhear their conversation.

“Something’s happening, Alyss.”

“Obviously, the weather is different,” Alyss says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She’s seen better days as well; her face is gaunt and her hair is tangled. Kouza doesn’t look much better.

“Today’s the day, when we take the rest out. They’ll be driving us together at any moment,” Kouza says, knocking his sword against the wood.

“Think today is the last day?” Alyss asks Kouza. By her is the mace I saw her with earlier, balancing on the log.

“No, I don’t. But we’re close.”

I quietly scale a tree, listening in and hiding at the same time. What is the weather doing? I try to see through the trees, but all I see is a dim white light. Something is wrong.

“Do you see him?” Alyss says suddenly, grabbing her mace. Kouza nods.

“Let’s go.”

With that, they charge out of the jungle after whoever their victim is. This is my chance, I have to go now, before it’s too late. Run, Dove, run!

I drop out of the tree and start running, tripping over roots; something scratches my face and I feel warm running down my cheek. I just have to run.

I get to the edge of the forest, to a bizarre sight. It’s a blizzard. In a desert? I can hardly see three feet in front of me, but somewhere in the blur of snow I can hear the sound of impact and weapons clashing.

Without hesitating, I sprint into the snow, but it blinds me instantly; the wind turning me around until I don’t know what way I’m facing. Am I facing the pyramids, the open desert, the jungle, or the fighting tributes? I don’t know, don’t know!

Cabel, I need you.

I can do this. I was Dove alone for two days, and I’m Dove alone now. I’m strong, I got a 6 in training. I can do this. I am Dove Rosestar, after all. And I can’t let Mum down.  
The wind whips around me with such ferocity that it knocks me down. I scramble to my feet, brushing snow off of my clothes and hair. The cold is shocking and makes me gasp with pain.

The cannon startles me, but I start running again, hopefully into the open desert. I need to find some sort of shelter so I don’t freeze to death. My eyelashes are already frosted with snow; my fingers are stiff. I know I’m lost, but I can’t stop now. I need to keep going. I don’t have a choice. I run and run and run against the wind.

And I run straight into Alyss.

She grabs for me, but I dodge out of her reach, running backwards into the storm where she can’t see me. I trip over a body; who is it? The glance I give the bloody corpse tells me it’s the boy from 9. Have to run, have to run, have to get away from Kouza and Alyss.

She comes barreling towards me, mace swinging. My cold and stiffening fingers fumble for my axe still swinging on my belt. I manage to grasp it, hold it tight. When Alyss has almost reached me, I run backward again, dodging her blow. I have to move away, so I do, turning and sprinting again. Where’s Kouza?

The mace makes impact with my back, knocking the wind out of me. Alyss is right on top of me, mace raised again for a killing blow. I dodge again, and it catches me on the side of my head. I see stars, everything whirling. The snow is blowing around me like the sand tornado was, but it doesn’t take me away. I’m here, and I can’t move.

“Where’s your brother, little songbird?” Alyss sneers, looking me up and down. I see two of her, then only one, then two again.

“He’s dead,” I growl.

“Aw, isn’t that too bad? We all knew he couldn’t win, didn’t we? And I know you’re not going to win either,” Alyss says, then laughs.

“Neither will you,” I say, and I strike with as much venom and strength as I can muster. 

Time pauses then. Alyss and I look at each other straight in the eyes. Then we both look at the axe protruding from her chest. She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can form the words, Alyss from District 5 crumples forward into the snow, and the cannon fires.

I stand, half blinded by the snow, pain thundering in my head, and I’m shocked at what I just did. I killed Alyss. I killed her.

I can’t bring myself to pull the axe from her chest, I can’t do anything. My head injury seems to be fogging everything I do. I have to get away. 

“Dove, run,” I order myself, and I start running again, my water bottle slapping against my thigh as I go. The snowstorm is getting worse, and it’s like I stand in the middle of oblivion. I can’t see anything; I don’t know where I am. Is this how it ends?

I hear Kouza behind me screaming, “Alyss! Alyss!” He’s looking for her, but he doesn’t know his ally is dead. Kouza, you and I are both alone now, I think. I’m Dove alone, he’s Kouza alone.

Then I think he finds her, and he screams in rage and grief. “I’ll find you! I’ll find you!” he screams. My head is pounding, and the stars are back, mixing in with the shifting snow. It’s disorientating.

“Dussel? I know it was you! I know it was you!” Kouza’s screaming, and even above the howling wind and the snow I can hear him coming, and I run again, but the snow is deep and cold, and it’s so hard, so hard.

I scream as Kouza grabs my arm, pulling me backwards. “Did you do that? Did you kill her?” he yells into my face. I just look up at him blankly. What am I even supposed to say?  
Then my wits come back, and I try to pull away, to run again, but he’s got a firm grip on my arm. Without a word, he pushes me to the ground, stepping on my back to keep me from going anywhere.

I scream as loudly as I can, “Help! Help!” But who is going to help me?

The snow stops abruptly, like no real snow would do, and above us a crack in the clouds appears, letting down slivers of light. I twist, trying to see Kouza, trying to get free.

What I see is a raised blade, the sun glinting off the metal. His expression is fierce and deranged, and I kick and scream more, trying desperately to get loose so I can run. 

Why did I leave the jungle? Mum, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! 

Then the blade flashes down, and I scream.


	46. Win For Me

** Terra Coppersmith **

The figures in the distance are fighting with the wind when the first cannon goes. I look at Fletcher and he looks back at me. A few minutes later, a second cannon, then a third. Three dead and it’s barely dawn. Day 5 is kicking off to a great start.

“This is it,” Fletcher says simply. “The end.”

“Last day?” I ask, and he nods.

“Last day.”

My heart thuds in my chest. Only one of us is getting out of this arena alive; I don’t know what to do. Fletcher looks grim, all semblance of his cheery nature washed away. Snow keeps falling in my eyes, making me blink, and the temperature seems to keep dropping.

I keep my arrow nocked, waiting for the figures in the distance to come closer. My hands are cold now, though, and it’s getting difficult to hold the bow. The tributes are coming, but the wind keeps pushing harder, making me almost fall on occasion as it whips around us. The cold cuts through me like a knife.

“Fletcher?” I ask, looking at my ally. He’s serious, watching them come closer only to be blown backwards. The other tributes are close enough now that we can hear them laughing, ploughing through the snow that’s grown deep in only a matter of minutes. I’ve never seen snow like this, and I know it can’t be natural. Just an evil little trick of the Gamemakers’.

“It’s the Careers,” Fletcher says.

“How do you know?” I ask, straining my eyes to see.

“They’re mostly all alive, as far as I can tell from the faces in the sky, and there’s at least three tributes coming. Maybe more.”

“So we fight them,” I say, struggling to keep my stiff fingers on the bow. I have to keep pushing my hair out of my face as the wind whips it around, but it’s a losing battle.

“They’ll outnumber us,” Fletcher says, and his mind seems to be whirring like a machine. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know he’s making a plan. 

“So what do we do? I can shoot them with my bow, and you can take them down with your knife. Work together,” I say.

“You can’t hit them with the arrows, not with the wind blowing the way it is,” Fletcher says. His grip on his knife tightens.

“Then we’ll take them down together in hand to hand combat. Two is better than one, isn’t it?” They’re almost here; the only thing preventing the Careers from being here right now is the wind that keeps blowing them back. We’re running out of time.

“And then what, Terra? I don’t want this to be between you and me,” Fletcher says. “I won’t kill you, you know that.”

“And I’m not going to kill you, so what are we doing? We need a plan, and we need one now. They’re almost here!” I say, my voice rising.

Fletcher’s face grows still, then he seems to make a decision.

“Get up the mountain. I’ll hold them off. Only one of us can win this thing, and I want it to be you,” he says, and he’s solemn and serious.

“What? No! I’m not going anywhere,” I say.

“Only one of us can win; I want it to be you,” Fletcher repeats, and a look at his face tells me he really is serious about it.

“Why don’t we both go up the mountain?” I ask.

“They’ll come after us then. They don’t know who the cannons were, unless they killed the tributes themselves. They’ll think you’re dead, and it’s just me here.”

“I have to stay here, Fletcher! I can’t just run,” I say.

“I don’t want you to fight them.”

“Why not? Because I’m a girl?”

“Because I love you, that’s why!” Fletcher says, and he grabs my shoulders. “They can’t see six feet in front of them. If you climb fast and hide, they won’t find you. Go. Please.”

“I’m not going to leave you!” I say. Fletcher seizes my face and kisses me.

When he pulls away, he keeps holding my face in his hands, just looking at me. “Go. Hide. And win, Terra. Win for me. Okay?”

I want to say something else, to argue back to him, but he’s firm. He’s not going to change his mind. Instead, I nod, tears starting to pour down my face. He kisses me again, then pushes me towards the mountain. “I love you,” he says, with that old cheeky grin.

“I love you too,” I say, and then I climb, leaving Fletcher behind. What am I doing? Why am I not staying? I start to go back down, but within a few seconds, the storm grows so strong that I can’t see Fletcher anymore, can’t see the Careers who must be here now, and I just climb up and up, hands shaking, one hand on the bow, the other on the rocks. The stones are sharp and cut my hands, leaving bloodstains in the snow.

I’m cold, but I’m quick, and I scramble up the mountainside as quickly as I can, blinded by the snow and wind that keep attacking my face.  
Finally, I tumble into a little cave tucked into the side of the mountain, sheltered from the storm, just as the cannon fires.

And all I can do is collapse into tears.


	47. Stone Against Coal

** Dexsia Greentree **

Velvet pulls the blade out of the boy from 8 just as the wind picks up again and knocks Treasure and me over. The cannon fires, and I scramble to my feet. The boy didn't even attack before Velvet stabbed him; the look on his face was absolute determination. No fear whatsoever.

Calypso screams over the wind, "Where's the girl?"

"She must have been one of the other cannons!" I yell back, bracing my feet against the biting wind. Four dead today? That sounds about right.

"Let's go! We have to get back to camp!" Velvet yells, and we charge away from the mountain, helped along by the wind that's now at our backs. My ears are like ice, my fingers stiff and unyielding. I look back, just to make sure that there isn't the District 8 girl standing there, but all I see is the boy, and blood spreading out over the snow. Then the blizzard grows too thick and I can't even see that anymore.

The four of us jog to keep warm, and it's not difficult with the wind pushing us along. The only hardship is the snow that keeps getting deeper and deeper. Velvet is leading us, and I just follow him blindly, charging through the storm. It will be so nice to get back to the Cornucopia and get warmed up again.

And then I can kill the others.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Treasure screeches over the wind.

"Yes!" Velvet yells back.

Calypso moves closer towards me; now it's Velvet in the lead, Treasure a little off to the left, and then Calypso and me keeping up the back and right.

"When we get back, we'll kill them," she whispers to me. I nod.

Suddenly, Treasure falls with a shriek. Calypso grabs Velvet's arm and makes him stop, and we all carefully walk over to where Treasure is, buried up to her waist in snow.

"Help!" she screams. "Get me out! It's pulling me down!"

"What's pulling you down?" I ask.

Treasure feels around then screams, "There's sand! The sand is loose and it's pulling me down! Get me out!"

"Quicksand?" Calypso says, examining the area around Treasure more carefully. Most of it is covered in snow.

"We'll have to go right," Velvet says, and we all just stand there, looking at Treasure who's flailing around and yelling. The storm seems to let up suddenly, and I can see my ally clearly. Her face is pink with cold and streaked with dark flecks of sand and mud.

"Aren't you going to get me out?" Treasure says, reaching her arms up to us. She really is sinking; she's buried up to her chest now.

Velvet, Calypso, and I all look at each other, and for once I feel that all three of us are allied together.

Calypso looks back down at Treasure. "No, I don't think we will, thank you very much," she says sweetly. Treasure's face changes from confusion to shock to anger.

"That's not a very nice expression for your pretty face," I say, stepping back from the quicksand pool; I don't want to risk falling in myself. I don't know how big it is, but I don't think it goes past where Treasure is.

"Get me out!" she screams, thrashing around, which does no good. In fact, she starts sinking faster; now she's up to her neck.

"Shall we?" Calypso says, gesturing with her trident towards the Cornucopia, which we can see in the distance now that the snow isn't as thick. Turns out we were going too far to the left; the big gold horn is farther to the right. Velvet nods.

"Let's go," he says brusquely, and we start walking through the drifts, leaving Treasure behind. I can hear her scream for a few minutes more, even as we get farther and farther away from her. The wind starts to pick up again, but not as violently as before, just a mildly ominous breeze. Velvet, Calypso, and I are all quiet, pondering what we've just done by leaving Treasure.

Abruptly, Treasure's shrieks stop, leaving the landscape silent. I wait to hear the cannon, but it doesn't come. Could she have gotten out?

"Where is it?" Calypso mutters, using her trident as a walking stick.

_Boom._

"There it is," I say. So Treasure is dead. One less person in the arena, which is excellent. It's one step closer to District 2 for me. Velvet is next, and then Calypso. And, of course, the other living tributes in the arena, whoever and wherever they are.

Still, somehow, Treasure's death isn't as satisfying as I thought it would be. I feel almost bad about leaving her to drown in sand. Then I think about her irritating ways and how she spent her entire time in the arena combing her hair, and I think I can live with myself. How are they going to get her body out of there?

Now that the storm has subsided, it doesn't take us long to wade back to camp, through the knee-high snow. Everything seems normal here at the Cornucopia; the only thing out of the ordinary that I see as we approach is that the oasis is frozen.

"We'll have to cut some holes in that," I start to say, before the blade whizzes over my head.

"What the hell?" I say, then I see the boy from 12, Dussel, standing in the opening to the Cornucopia. He has a knife in one hand and a sword in another, weapons he's no doubt stolen from us.

Dussel is tall and broad, maybe a little taller than Velvet, even. He doesn't look like he's been having too hard a time, except for the fact his eyes are wild and his lips are cracked with thirst. Calypso and I back up while Velvet moves left, surrounding the boy from 12. I get a good grip on my sword, and wait to see who makes the first move.

Dussel does, throwing another knife, this time at Calypso, who hits the snow. The knife goes over her head and lands somewhere in a snowdrift. Just as she's getting up, Dussel runs at me, sword held high, ready to attack.

I meet his blade midair, the two swords making a horrible screeching sound of metal against metal. He pulls away and I lunge forward, putting Dussel on the defensive. Velvet uses this opportunity to come at Dussel from behind, but the latter blocks him too, kicking Velvet backwards. Dussel is stronger than I figured, which makes me worried.

Velvet crashes to the ground, only to be covered by Calypso, who goes after the boy from 12 with her trident, getting a hit in on his leg. Dussel yells and Calypso pulls the trident out from his calf, sending three identical streams of blood into the snow. Velvet's jumped to his feet, holding his sword in a ready position, but I can tell he's hurt somewhere; he's slow. And Dussel realizes this as soon as I do.

I come at Dussel from behind, but he turns just as quickly. He slashes high, I duck and go low, stabbing him in the leg and bouncing backwards. _It's three against one, Dussel._ We can take him, we can kill him.

"Velvet!" Calypso cries, but he's too late to react; Dussel slashes Velvet's leg and stabs him again and again. Velvet slashes at Dussel, trying to stem the flow of blood at the same time, but for all his might and strength, he collapses like a doll into the snow and lies still. The snow is full of blood, crimson against the white. A strong metallic smell goes up, mixed with the clean air that's coming in from the direction of the mountain.

I glance over at my ally, while keeping Dussel in check. Velvet is shaking, but he's strong. Slowly, he gets up, and I think he'll be okay, but then his injuries overtake him and he collapses back down. Dussel laughs.

"I'm stronger than all of you! I'm the victor!" he says. _Smug bastard,_ I think. I want this tribute dead, and I want him dead _now._

I strike at him again, but he catches my sword in just the wrong angle. It shatters, brittle from the cold and hit in the one unlucky spot. I stand, shocked, holding the remains of my sword; just the hilt and a broken metal shard. Calypso goes at Dussel again with her trident, but he disarms her and kicks her backwards. The trident lies at his feet, while my allies and I are unarmed. _How did this happen? We're better than this!_

"Any last words?" Dussel says, swinging his sword around. I back up, boots crunching in the snow. I'm not cold anymore; the adrenaline pumping through my veins is keeping me warm and alive. This sword fragment isn't going to do me any good; I toss it to the side and face Dussel square on.

"Not yet," I say, and dodge Dussel's next blow. His blade hits the snow and he growls at me savagely, pulling it out with fury. I think his time in the arena has turned him at least slightly insane. His eyes are certainly not stable; dark pools of madness. The snow starts again, but softly, drifting down around me like feathers.

"Stay still so I can kill you!" he screams, striking at me again; once again I dodge. Calypso tries to slip around to grab her trident, but he goes and kicks her again, sending her into a snowbank. She's still breathing, thankfully, but Velvet doesn't look so good, judging by the pool of blood around him.

Dussel is breathing heavy, blood still streaming out of the wounds that don't seem to be affecting him. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug though; once it wears off, he'll be screaming. I want to hear the cannon before it wears off. I want him dead!

I just need to keep alive until I can get my hands on a weapon again; I'm contemplating going for Calypso's trident when, like a miracle, the parachute descends from the sky. We all stop and watch it come down; come down to _me._

The sword comes down to rest in my hand, the blade perfectly balanced for me. Just like Aulus knew it would be. I rip the parachute away and stand my ground, meeting Dussel's dark eyes with my own.

"Bring it on, 12."


	48. Weight of Two Lives

** Terra Coppersmith **

The snow stops and light shines in the entrance of the crevice, just minutes after the cannon goes. Who was it this time? A Career? Someone else? I don’t even know who else is left in the arena. All I know is that Fletcher is dead and I’m alone.

I’m such a coward! Why did I let him talk me into running while he stayed and died for me? And why did he die for me? We could have run together, or he could have left me and escaped. What was going on in his head?

I brush tears away and mentally curse myself. Is this how I want Panem to see me? How I want Deecey and Iry to see me? Weeping over a boy I barely knew? You didn’t barely know him, Terra. You cared for him.

I loved him and see where that’s gotten me? 

I told him I would win, I told Iry and Deecey I would win. I think it’s time to start fulfilling those promises. Gripping my bow in one hand, I pull myself out of the cave with the other. The air is cold and biting, but I don’t care. I want revenge. And I don’t care how many people have to die to satisfy that need.

Off in the distance, a hovercraft is sending down its claw, pulling a form out of the snow. It draws the tribute up, then disappears into thin air. May that hovercraft never come for me.

My hand hurts and drips blood from where I cut it while climbing. Another setback. I sit down and pull out the first aid kit from my pack, wrapping a white bandage around and around my left hand. Once it’s secured, I take a drink from my water bottle. I need food; my hands are shaky and my legs aren’t doing so well either. I was supposed to get food today, before all hell broke loose. Now I doubt there’s anything to shoot.

I have to get going before I start to really starve to death. I’m not going to die in the near future, but the distant future looks a bit dodgy. I’m cold, my hands are stiff, and it’s a miracle they aren’t frostbitten. I’m not dressed for this weather. 

I make my way down the mountain, following the smears of blood I left while climbing up here in the first place. I really didn’t get very high up, did I? Maybe fifteen feet or so. It seemed farther when the snow was blowing so hard. Sharp stabs of pain shoot through my stomach, and I don’t know whether hunger, grief, or guilt is the cause.

Fletcher’s dead, and it’s all my fault.

The pain grows worse when I get to the bottom of the mountain. All where our camp was, by the den I had dug, by the brush I had placed on top to conceal it, there is blood. Deep crimson blood staining the snow; even though it’s snowed more since, I can still see where Fletcher died, where his lifeforce left him, where he bled out into the snow.

I clap my left hand to my mouth, fighting back the tears that threaten to overwhelm me. Stay strong, Terra! Show Panem that you’re strong and you can be the victor. Struggling to control my emotions, I put on a blank face that I hope shows that I’m unaffected by Fletcher’s death. 

“I will be victor,” I whisper, and in response, a parachute comes down from the sky. I catch it easily in one hand, pulling away the cloth to reveal a wrapped package. In it is a loaf of bread and a pair of gloves.

“My thanks to my sponsors,” I say, looking up to the sky. My shaking fingers pull off chunks of bread and stuff them in my mouth as fast as they can.

What’s the plan now? I’m wondering if it might be a better idea to stay here for the night and see what happens in the morning. Of course, it’s barely mid morning now. Through the storm clouds I can see blue sky, which gives me hope for a better day tomorrow. Should I stay or should I go?

I squint to see the Cornucopia; there’s figures fighting there. As long as there’s more than one tribute fighting, I’m staying where I am. I keep my eyes averted from the blood in the snow, try to keep myself calm and numb, because this is the only way I’m going to survive the Games. I can break down later, but I can’t afford to do it now.

I have water, I have food. I have gloves, which fit perfectly and are warm. I’ll stay. Let them fight it out and later today or even tomorrow I’ll go in and win. I need to get back to my sister. If I die, she’ll be taken away from Deecey’s family and put in the community home. And nothing good or happy happens there. My sister needs me, so I’ll be strong and I’ll win.

This arena has changed me. I remember how excited I felt in the Capitol, with my high-tech room and food whenever I wanted it. Laughing at Postumius. I was simply a girl, a sixteen-year old girl who learned to shoot a bow and arrow within a matter of days. So what am I now?

I feel older. I have the weight of two lives on my soul, and it presses me down until I feel I can’t breathe. Most of all I feel numb, and not just from cold. I’m guessing that the pain will come later, if I manage to escape the arena.

A cannon fires and I look up. One less for me to worry about. I run my hands along the smooth surface of the bow. I’m looking forward to seeing the faces in the sky tonight; seeing who the cannons have been today. There’s been a lot of deaths, almost as many as the day of the bloodbath. How many are left in the arena?

I’ll watch the skies eagerly tonight, and figure out from there who I have to kill to escape.


	49. The Snow Red with Blood

** Dexsia Greentree **

Dussel looks at my newly gifted sword and roars, rushing at me like that hippopotamus in the river. I dodge his attack, then manage to slash him across the back, making him stumble. He whips around, and comes after me again; I back up into the deeper snow, away from the Cornucopia and its neatly packed entrance. Maybe I can get him to trip and fall and them I can stab him.

I meet his blade with mine again, my arms straining against his power. I’m strong, but he’s much stronger than I am. Behind him I can see that Calypso has her trident again, and she’s coming. Velvet’s cannon goes, and it turns out I never needed to kill my allies; someone else did it for me.

Calypso stabs Dussel in the back again; the snow is red with blood; wherever I look the ground is crimson. I can tell that Dussel is weakening; as my arms are about to give out, I sweep his legs out from under him with a kick. He hits the snow like a stone, his sword falling away from him. Dussel has been disarmed.

Smiling, I stand above him, looking him in the eyes. “Any last words, Dussel?” I say sweetly, then drive my blade into his heart.

The cannon fires and I pull my blade back out, the tip red and dripping. I look at Calypso, wondering what to do next. Do I need to kill her now? This alliance isn’t going to last much longer. Is there even an alliance?

“Kouza’s still out there,” she says simply, and I understand that to mean, Until the big crazy boy is dead, we shouldn’t kill each other. Sounds fair to me.

“Let’s get a fire going,” I say, kicking Dussel’s lifeless body.

Calypso looks over at Velvet, lying in crimson snow. “He really went out lamely, didn’t he? His father isn’t going to be too happy about that.”

“Right, his father was a victor, wasn’t he?” I say, going to find the matches.

“Yeah, Garnet Dusksand, apparently. I remember from Treasure telling us.”

“She was a moron,” I say, and we both half laugh. It’s not even noon and most of our alliance is dead, as well as most of the other tributes in the arena.

“Last day today?” I ask, striking a match and putting it on the sand fire that we got at the beginning of the Games.

“Today or tomorrow. We can wait. It might take Kouza a little to get over here.”

“Is it just us three in the arena?” I ask.

“I think four, but I don’t know who the fourth is.”

“We can figure it out tonight when the faces show up,” I say, rubbing my hands over the steadily growing flames. It’s not as cold as it was earlier, but still freezing. The arena has been completely transformed from a sandy and hot desert to a frozen wasteland.

“Wasn’t expecting snow,” Calypso says, coming to sit by me around the fire. Last night Velvet and Treasure were beside us, roasting marshmallows and laughing. Now they’re dead and we’re the only ones left.

“Yeah, that wasn’t really on my radar when I went to bed last night,” I say. I’m keeping my new sword by my side at all times now, not that I wasn’t already. Things can change in a matter of moments now.

I jump when I see something outside, but it turns out to just be a hovercraft, picking up first Velvet, then Dussel. It’s funny how they looked similar but so different at the same time. Velvet was tall and broad, and blonde, while Dussel was tall and broad and dark haired. I also don’t think either of them were very bright.

“So, what now?” I ask Calypso. Her face is calm and quite expressionless. I can’t tell if she wants to kill me now or later, which makes me nervous. Neither of us is leaving the Cornucopia and the only fire within miles, though.

“Are there any marshmallows left?” she asks. I reach behind me and search around for the bag the marshmallows came in last night.

“Yeah, a couple,” I say, handing them to her. She finds one of the sticks and puts a fluffy square over the flames.

“Maybe Kouza likes marshmallows,” she says. I nod.

I wonder when he’ll get here.

In the meantime, Calypso and I eat roasted marshmallows and wait for the sun to finish its journey across the sky.


	50. Seven Faces in the Sky

** Terra Coppersmith **

That’s another cannon, which makes what, six? Seven? It’s just as bad as the bloodbath. There’s only four of us left now, which means the end is getting closer and closer. I have no idea who my other three opponents are, but I hope they take each other out by the time I get over to the Cornucopia in the morning. Somebody’s alive over there; I can see smoke from a fire.

I don’t think I can stay here at the mountain all night, though. It feels haunted, now that Fletcher is gone. I haven’t really been alone in the arena since the first night, and I’m scared. I don’t like to be on my own.

Iry and Deecey won’t be at school today, not with me being in the top four. They probably won’t make them go to work either. Last days come before work or school.

Well, I know they’ll be glued to the screens, as well as all of District 8 and the whole of Panem too. They’re looking for a show. I wonder how the media has spun my story so far; they must have had a lovely time with me and Fletcher. So now it’s just me, and three others. The betting in the Capitol must be going crazy right about now.

I think it’s time to move on. I should be closer to the Cornucopia for tomorrow anyway. Damn, I just realized they must have taken Fletcher’s pack with the second water bottle when they took him up. I need to focus on Fletcher like he wasn’t anyone important, just for now. I need to get through tonight and tomorrow, and then I can break down. I don’t want to do that for the cameras, and especially not for Iry and Deecey.

I wonder what Deecey makes of it.

Right, there’s no point in staying and ruminating over it. I need to go. The snow has stopped completely, which is excellent, but it’s really deep. As in, knee deep. I’ll be wading through snow for the rest of the day. Thank goodness for the gloves; everything else is still freezing, though. I need better shelter than what I’ve got here.

I start out, plowing through the snow. A good thing that I discover is that the Careers made a big, floundering trail when they left earlier, which makes it easier to walk. I’m not going to follow their path all the way to the Cornucopia, though. A few miles to the left, there’s some dark rocks that seem to form a cave. I think I’ll go there for the night. It’s a bit out of the way, but it’s much closer than the Cornucopia.

The sun comes out for the walk, which is nice. I keep my bow loaded at all times, just in case a tribute appears. Unlikely, though. I can see everything in the white. It’s hard to believe that yesterday this was a burning desert. I almost regret not exploring more of the arena, but I’m also content to just have stayed at the mountain mostly. The night by the tribute and the day with the lion remind me that I made the right choice in the end to stay close to the rocks.

Fletcher’s dead. It’s hitting me now, like a sandbag to the stomach. He’s dead. He’s not going to be waiting for me at the caves, or at the Cornucopia, or in the Capitol. He’s been taken away and sent home already, in a plain pine box. Like all the other tributes who have returned to District 8 over the years. He’s gone, and I’m still here. I could have died too, but he protected me. Even though he could have won himself.

All I feel is guilt for running away while he stayed to fight. I should have ignored his words, stayed by his side to fight the Careers.

And then what, Terra? Final four then, and it would have been him and me, and we swore we wouldn’t kill each other. The Gamemakers would throw us to some mutts, and in the end one of us would be dead anyway. It’s not fair, but there’s no room for fairness in the arena.

Knowing that doesn’t dull the pain, though.

Breaking a path is exhausting and takes most of the day, even though the caves are close by. I don’t know why I didn’t see them before; maybe because they were too open and offered little concealment. Concealment doesn’t really matter now; I can take out anyone who comes near me. I’ll have to.

I peek around the corner of the rocks once I reach them. I don’t doubt something or someone is inside. It makes me nervous. I don’t think I’ll sleep inside there, actually; something feels off to me. The outside walls of the cave seem sturdy enough, though, so I climb up the side and make my camp on the roof.

The light is still good, so I settle myself on the rocks covered with snow and look over the rest of the arena. It’s huge and largely empty. There’s the river, the forest on the other side of the arena altogether. I wonder where the others are. Are they all Careers at the Cornucopia? Whoever is there still has their fire going. If it’s three Careers, I don’t have a chance. They’ve been training since they were kids; I learned how to shoot a bow last week.

As far as Games go, these have been relatively short. Day 5. I’ve seen others go for weeks at a time, only dragging out the agony at home. Now that I’m here with lots of time to think, I really allow myself to consider the possibility that I might go home, back to Iry. Back to fame and fortune, and a life without work. What on earth would I do with myself? I can’t go back to school now. What am I supposed to do?

I’ll figure that out once I get home. First things first, I need to survive three more tributes before I get out of this stupid arena.

The snow is deep up here too, so I dig down and make a sort of den for myself. It’s small, but I think it will hold some warmth for tonight. And some sort of concealment, too, just in case I need it. For my supper, I take out the bread and rip chunks of it off; I finish the last of my water, so I fill the bottle with snow and put it close to me to melt.  
Slowly, the sun sets over the bleak landscape. The sky is painted with orange tonight, orange and pink streaks. Postumius would love it. If I get out of here, I’ll have to put up with him again. It’s enough to make me want to walk straight into the Cornucopia unarmed and beg them to shoot me.

It grows colder, like I though it would, so I dive down into my tiny snow cave. It offers some protection, but it’s going to be a cold night. And there’s no Fletcher by my side to keep me warm.

The colors in the sky fade, leaving only a jet black behind. In the distance, I can see the light of a campfire, presumably at the Cornucopia. Enjoy your last fire, I think.

The Capitol anthem blares and the seal lights up the sky. This is it; this is when I see the dead and figure out the living.

The seal fades briefly, then the faces begin to appear. Both from 1, which surprises me. The girl seemed pretty dimwitted in the Capitol, and I’m sure if she hadn’t been a Career she would have died the first day. So that’s two Careers down. 

The next is the girl from 5, Alyss. That means the last two Careers, the girl from 2 and the girl from 4 are alive. They must be at the fire by the Cornucopia. After Alyss, it’s the fourteen-year old from 6, Dove. The one who sang at her interview. I feel sorry for her, because her brother was in the sky yesterday. And she was really young too.

After Dove it’s Fletcher, and I didn’t anticipate how painful it would be seeing his face in the sky. I have to clench my teeth to stop myself from crying; his picture is the same one they used to show us our scores. He looks like he did in Training; confident, cheeky, and calm. 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, a tear running down my cheek. “I’m sorry, Fletcher.”

His picture fades too soon and is replaced by the boy from 9, who I don’t really care about, and then the boy from 12. The seal appears again, the anthem does its final note, and the sky goes dark.

So that’s who my opponents are. The two girl Careers, and by process of elimination, I figure out the fourth is Kouza from 5. 

It grows steadily colder, but I stay fairly warm in my snow cave. I know this is the last night, and tomorrow I will be in the Capitol.

I hope.


	51. No Room for Guilt

** Dexsia Greentree **

So it’s the girl from 8 who’s still alive, along with Kouza.

“I guess she wasn’t dead,” Calypso says, looking up to the sky where the pictures just faded. “I wonder where she went.”

“I wonder where she is now,” I say. I’m keeping my hand on my sword, and I notice Calypso is doing the same with her trident. Neither of us trusts the other, and we shouldn’t! Tomorrow, one of us is going to be dead, and I’m planning on it being her. It’s a shame. If we weren’t both tributes, I think Calypso and I could be friends. There’s not room for friendship in the arena, though.

We have an unspoken agreement to not break the alliance until Kouza is dead. I could take the girl from 8 easily, so I’m not worried about her. But we’ll need two people to take down Kouza. I kind of wish Velvet was still here so he could go at him, but considering how easily he went out, I’m not sure.

“Quiet tonight,” I comment, glancing over at Calypso.

“Yeah. I kind of wish he would hurry up and get here. You know he’s going to arrive at some point,” Calypso says. She looks very serious, staring out the entrance of the Cornucopia. It’s starting to snow a little again, but it’s nothing crazy like this morning.

I could be in the Capitol tomorrow; I could see Aulus. He’ll be so proud of me. Then, after the final interviews, I could go home and see my family and really reconnect with Gallus, which is what I want most right now. I’m even getting excited about Lucretia having the baby; I’d be an aunt! And on top of all that, I would be rich and famous, living in a mansion in the Victor’s Village.

Life would be easy and happy. I just need to eliminate my last opponents and I’m free.

I could kill Calypso now, but I don’t dare. I don’t think I could take down Kouza on my own; Dussel was easy compared to the boy from 5. I know she’s thinking the same things about me. There’s no trust in this alliance, if you can even call it that now.

“Maybe he’s staying in one spot for the night,” I say, breaking the silence again. I could cut the tension in here with a knife, it’s that thick. I wonder if my family will be staying up late to watch tonight. Just in case I become victor before the sun rises.

I will be victor; I know I’ll be victor! Haven’t I been training for this my whole life? I killed Dussel, didn’t I? I killed Dussel, and the boy from 3, and the girl from 9. Do I feel guilty about it? No. That’s how you play the Game. Either you kill them or they kill you. There’s no room for guilt in here.

“He’ll be here,” Calypso says with a quiet certainty. We’re both playing the waiting game right now. “I don’t know when, but he’ll be here before the sun rises. I know that.”

“How?”

“A feeling.”

“What about the girl from 8?” I ask.

“She’ll probably freeze to death overnight. She’s the least of my worries,” Calypso says. Meaning I’m higher on her kill list than the curly haired girl from 8. That’s alright; Calypso is higher on my kill list too.

I poke the fire every once in a while with my sword. It’s a remarkable thing, this fire; it requires almost no fuel. I’ve been breaking wood off the crates near me and tossing them into the flames, more to keep entertained than anything else. It’s a long night, with Calypso and I only talking once or twice more.

I’m dead tired, but there’s no way I’m going to sleep this late in the Games. Calypso could easily decide to slit my throat, and then where would I be? In a pine box. I don’t think so.

Calypso straightens up suddenly. “He’s here,” she says.

I grip my sword tighter and get to my feet. This is it; the last four will become three, and then two, and then I will be the victor.

The crunching through the snow sound irregular, though. Is he hurt? What’s the matter with him? Is it really Kouza?

I get my answer when, instead of the hulking boy from 5, a large bear like creature lumbers its way towards our camp.

Calypso freezes, and I follow suit as I try to make sense of what’s in front of me. The only way I can describe the creature is as a bear that isn’t quite a bear anymore, if that makes any sense. It’s white, and stands at least three feet taller than I do. It has the normal nose of a bear, but its eyes are wide and rolling, with red glowing pupils, and its mouth stretches from ear to ear, red, grotesque, and dripping saliva. Each of its teeth that I can see is razor sharp and pointed.

I’ve never seen a bear in real life before, but unless I’m extremely confused on what bears look like, this is a mutt. 

The mutt stops six feet or so away from where we are, and stares us down. Calypso and I say nothing. If I get taken out by this mutt, I will be furious. I want to yell at it, Go after the other girl! But that wouldn’t go over well.

“The fire’s keeping it away,” Calypso mutters, not taking her eyes off the mutt. It snarls, opening its mouth wide. Even in the dim firelight, I can see how bloody its jaws are. There have been no cannons, so I doubt it’s been eating a tribute recently. I hope it’s not still hungry.

I get my answer when the thing starts lumbering towards us; Calypso is on her feet instantly, trident raised. I get a good grip on my sword with both my hands, ready to fight the beast. The mutt snarls again, then snaps at us, coming closer to the fire at the entrance, then backing away.

“Get ready,” I say. The mutt starts coming towards us again with determination this time, and I’m ready to kill it, when out of nowhere, a sword blade lodges in its side.

Tonight has taken an interesting turn.


	52. Frostbite

** Terra Coppersmith **

Whatever was in the cave lumbered out about an hour ago, and I don’t know where it went. Away from me, which is all that matters. My face is frozen, and I can’t feel my ears or the tips of my toes. I’m scared I’m going to have frostbite. I’m scared I have frostbite. I want to go home, but I want to go home with all my digits too. 

Dawn is breaking, and I think it’s time for me to go. It’s a long walk to the Cornucopia. Hopefully they’ll have fought it out by the time I get there. I’m just waiting to hear a cannon; that would be the sweetest sound to me right now. 

But if I stay here much longer without moving, I’m going to freeze to death and then what would have all of this been for? I told my family and I told Fletcher that I would win the Games, and I intend to keep that promise.

Of course, I’m sure the other twenty tributes also told their families that they would come home.

Never mind, Terra! It’s time to get going. I feel sluggish and numb, though, and my fingers can barely grasp the handle of my pack, let alone the bow. If I can’t shoot, I’m dead. Painfully, I turn on the flashlight and pull off my gloves. My fingers are white, tinged with grey. I can’t feel the cold with them anymore, which tells me I’m in serious danger.   
Frostbite is nothing to play with, and yet it seems that’s what I’m doing.

“Damn it,” I mutter, pulling my gloves back on with difficulty. The joints in my fingers won’t work properly. I need to get going, now. This is bad, this is very, very bad. I know that if my feet are frostbitten, I’m not supposed to walk on them, but what choice do I have? I’m so scared I’m going to lose a foot or something.

Nothing is going to get done while sitting here, though. The thing that makes me even more concerned is the knowledge that whatever thing was in the cave is out and wandering. I don’t want to meet it while walking.

Throwing the pack and my quiver on my back, and grasping the bow as best I can in my right hand, I slide down the side of the cave and land in a snow pile below. What was I doing? Oh, right, going to the Cornucopia.

“I’m losing my mind,” I say, stumbling along on painful feet through the snow and ice. Everything hurts, and after only a few steps tears run out of my eyes involuntarily. In the cold wind they freeze on my face, until I’m more miserable than I was before.

I’m not going to win in this condition, unless my opponent is completely incapacitated. Maybe if they’re missing three out of four of their limbs I might have a chance. I’ll have to try, for Iry. For Deecey. For Fletcher.

I can’t give up so soon.

So I plow on with freezing feet, through the deep snow and through the new storm that’s brewing, my only guide the campfire in the distance.

And overhead, the sky turns pink and purple, announcing the start of Day 6.


	53. The Alliance Breaks

** Dexsia Greentree **

Kouza pulls his blade out of the bear mutt, backing up for another strike. I've retreated further into the Cornucopia, one hand on my sword, the other rummaging through a crate. Found them! I pull out a handful of throwing knives with my left hand, then transfer them to my right. Kouza stabs the bear just as it lunges for him with that hideous mouth; I throw a knife and it lodges in the mutt's side, making it roar.

"Give me one!" Calypso says, and I hand a knife over to her. The alliance is not yet broken. Kouza, who is our temporary and unexpected ally as well, slashes the mutt's throat, dodging a paw with razor sharp claws on it. My next knife hits the mutt's eye, Calypso's hitting it in the throat. It trembles, but keeps attacking. Each strike of sword or knife makes it weaken more. For a brief period of time, we three tributes are united against our common enemy.

"Why isn't this bloody thing dying already?" Calypso says, dashing forward to skewer the mutt with her trident. It catches her with the backside of its paw, sending her crashing into some crates. I've had enough of it, and Kouza and I attack at the same time.

With our combined strength, we sever the mutt's head, sending it crashing into the snow to stare blankly with those red pupiled eyes. The body falls sideways and also lies still. The bloody thing is dead, thank god.

Kouza and I are both breathing heavy, winded temporarily. My knees are shaking a little with the terror of the thing that we just defeated. Kouza and I look each other in the eyes, and some sort of understanding comes between us. Then the temporary alliance breaks and he comes at me, sword raised high. He looks deranged in the firelight.

"Hey! We've been waiting for you!" Calypso yells from behind me, distracting Kouza just enough for me to stab the boy and back away. Blood drips from the wound I've just inflicted in his back, and I expect him to keel over like Velvet did, but apparently this tribute is stronger than my former ally.

The adrenaline running through him keeps Kouza upright, and he turns to me again, slashing out with his sword. And so begins our first and last battle. He's good, but not as trained as I am. I meet every hasty move with my own blade, twisting and turning with him around the Cornucopia.

"He's mine!" I say to Calypso as she tries to join in.

"Shut up, Dexsia!" she shouts, and attacks anyway; her stab with a trident brings Kouza to one knee, but he gets up again, just as determined as ever to kill me. His green eyes are filled with pain and rage both; one of his hands is shaking but he holds on tight to his sword.

Kouza comes at me again with an attack that would kill any other tribute. I'm no ordinary girl, though. I'm Aulus's favorite, his best girl with a sword, the pride of District 2. And I know my mentor is watching me now with pride. Every clash of my opponent's weapon against my own is a step further to me returning home.

Every swing of Kouza's blade becomes more hurried and chaotic. Pain is driving him to attack without calculating the move beforehand; I, on the other hand, know each strike he's going to make before he makes it, and I deflect his blade with my own. With one more clever move of my own sword, I disarm Kouza and bring the tip to his throat.

Kouza is bleeding heavily now, and we're both standing in a pool of his blood. I smile at him, looking him straight in the eyes. I've won this battle.

"High scores don't mean everything, Kouza," I say. Some expression crosses his eyes that is foreign for the boy from 5. Fear.

"Yeah? Speak for yourself," Kouza says, grabbing my braid suddenly and from there disarming me, holding my own blade's tip to my throat.

Calypso moves forward, but Kouza tightens his grip on me, the sharp edge of the sword brushing against my neck.

"One step further and the girl dies," he says, his breath ragged.

"So?" Calypso says. "Kill her. Only one of us is getting out of here, Kouza."

Calypso has distracted Kouza enough that I can work the knife at my side out of its hilt without him noticing. Just as the tip of the sword at my throat starts to cut through my skin, I stab backwards and let go.

Kouza drops me and the sword, which falls beside me. I grab it with my right and rub my throat with my left; my hand comes away bloody but I think the cut is superficial. I'm going to live; Kouza is not.

The boy from 5 looks down at the knife lodged in his stomach, and the dark stain that's spreading out on his shirt from it. He looks me dead in the eye then, but he makes no move towards me. I sit on the floor of the Cornucopia, holding my sword.

"Bitch," Kouza says, then drops to his knees. The boy from 5, who got a 10 in Training, falls forward on his face and his cannon fires.

_Boom._

I stand up to face Calypso, who's standing opposite of me, on the other side of Kouza's body.

"So it's us," I say simply, lifting my sword higher and adjusting my grip.

"Alliance is over," she says.

"Obviously."

"Really, I'm sorry that I have to kill you," Calypso says, raising her trident with the bloody prongs.

"Same to you. I've been planning on being a victor for a long time, though," I say.

"What a coincidence; so have I," Calypso says, and she throws the knife that I didn't even know she had at my head. I duck in time, and the knife clatters off the metal inside of the Cornucopia. Outside, it's growing lighter, but within the golden horn, the firelight dances off the shiny surface of the walls and ceiling, casting odd shadows all around.

So this is it. The fight is between Calypso and me.

Calypso rushes at me, stabbing with her trident; I dodge and slash at her, but she's too quick. She dances out of reach, towards the entrance of the horn.

I reach behind me into a crate and pull out another knife. I throw it at her, but she ducks from it too, doing a roll forward. Calypso comes up onto one knee, trident ready to strike.

"Maybe that thing works underwater, but we're on land if you haven't noticed," I say, swinging my sword around. The snow is falling a little heavier now, but not yet in a blizzard.

Before Calypso has a chance to answer, I run towards her, slashing her arm with my blade. Blood streams from the wound, dripping onto the snow at her feet. With her other arm, she catches me in the leg with a knife, the knife I threw at her.

The fight becomes bloody and violent very quickly; she turns out to be quite a match for me with the trident. Calypso stabs me again, this time in the side when I'm not expecting it. My right side feels like it's on fire, but I strike out; this time I slash Calypso across the face, catching her in one eye and cutting her mouth.

She cries out in agony, clutching her face as blood drips through her fingers. I'm on the verge of tears myself, as blood runs through my own hand as I keep it clasped on my side. The pain is unlike anything I've ever felt before, beyond words. Calypso's pretty face is destroyed- by my own hand.

Though she's shaking and breathing heavy, Calypso stabs out again; I catch her trident between the prongs with my sword, but my arm is shaking, and my side is on fire, and the pain is getting to be too much.

Calypso lets out a sob from her ruined face; it's covered in blood. I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'm sorry, Calypso! I'm sorry!" I shouldn't be sorry; this is how the Games are played, nothing is too far in here. But I am, I am sorry. She was my ally, and she could have been my friend, and I've destroyed her with one movement of my hand.

I've destroyed a lot of people in here with one movement of my hand. The face of the little girl from 9 swims before my eyes, and guilt overwhelms me. I said there was no room for guilt here in the arena, but I was wrong.

No matter how guilty I may be, no matter how many deaths may be on my hands, I have to be the victor. I promised my family, I promised Aulus, I promised myself. I have to win, no matter what.

"How could you?" Calypso gets out. Her front is soaked with blood; the ground is slippery with it too. Behind us, Kouza is bleeding out onto the ground, and in front of me, the bear mutt is still gushing blood into the snow from its severed neck. All this gore is making me feel ill, but I push past it.

"I'm sorry, I have to be the victor," I say, then kick her trident up, freeing my blade. The trident clatters to the ground a few feet away, and I'm about to feel elation, that now I can kill Calypso and then the girl from 8 if she ever arrives, and then I can go home.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Calypso make a quick movement, but it doesn't quite register until the knife is lodged in my stomach.

Calypso breathes heavily, trying to staunch the flow of blood with her hands. I keep one hand on my side, and drop my sword with the other. I wrap my hand tentatively around the hilt, the dark brown hilt of the knife, and pull it out of me. The blade is dark red, as is the stain that's spreading across my front.

I won't be the victor.

I sink to my knees, trembling all over, then fall backwards, hands at my sides. I killed Kouza, and now I'm being killed in the exact same way. The irony of that is not lost on me.

"I'm sorry too, Dex," Calypso says, and she's crying. There's no room for tears for me, though. Everything about me hurts; my side, my stomach, and my breaking heart inside me.

"I love you all," I say, looking at the gold ceiling above me. "And I'm going to miss you."

Calypso comes over to me, still pressing her hands into her face as blood drips around them. "Can you turn me so I can see the sunrise?" I ask quietly. She turns me so I can see the outside world, the light and the snow and how alive everything is. The trees at the oasis.

"Mother, Father, I love you. Gallus, I'm sorry. I love you," I say, my last goodbyes to my family. They'll be watching me; they'll hear.

"Oh Calypso," I say to the girl who's killed me. "The sunrise is so beautiful."

The colors of the sky grow dimmer and dimmer, until I can hardly see them at all. I find the hilt of my sword with my right hand, and it's in this way that I go into the dark.


	54. The Victor

** Terra Coppersmith **

The sound of the two back to back cannons lets me know that I have only one opponent left. The arena is light now, with softly falling snow. I'm almost at the Cornucopia, half frozen and almost dead to the world myself. I almost think my cannon will be firing before I reach the golden horn.

I've been walking for ages now, but I'm almost there, I'm almost at my destination. I have to keep looking okay, for Iry. She's my biggest priority right now. Her and my thoroughly frostbitten limbs.

I'm almost there. I have to just keep telling myself that, and everything will be alright. My bow is frozen into my hands, and I don't think I'd be able to let it go even if I wanted to. Just keep going, Terra. Just keep going. I'm in the final two, which is unbelievable to begin with, but now I have to defeat one last person, who is the strongest in the arena. It's probably going to be Kouza. Please don't let it be Kouza.

The sunrise is gorgeous, but I can hardly focus on it. I'm more concerned about my painful and swollen joints, my frozen feet, and the fact that I'm probably going to die within the next few minutes. Just keep going.

I stumble over the last hill of snow, and arrive upon a horrifying sight. The snow around the Cornucopia is absolutely soaked with blood. There're the remains of some sort of bear like mutt outside, lying in two pieces and still gushing blood. A metallic smell is in the air, making me gag. What the hell happened here? I'm glad I missed it.

Limping around the corner, I look into the horn itself. Everything is quiet here; can everyone be dead besides me? No, I only heard two cannons. Somebody is still alive. But who?

There're two bodies lying on the floor in pools of blood. In fact, the whole entrance to the Cornucopia is a pool of blood. One of those bodies, I'm pleased to see, is Kouza's, and the other is a girl. I don't know who she is, though; there's not enough light to see.

Someone moans from inside the Cornucopia, making me jump. Sounds like they're hurt. There's no way I'm going to be able to shoot a bow in my condition. So, with difficulty, I drop my bow and pick up a knife that's lying by the mutt at the entrance. My frozen fingers close around the hilt painfully, but they manage. This is it; this is the last day.

I don't want to die.

A girl comes stumbling out from behind some crates; her appearance makes me recoil in horror. Her face has been hacked to pieces; one of her eyes is gone or at least severely damaged, and she's bleeding heavily. I can't even make out any features to help me figure out who she is. Again, what the hell happened here?

It's her hair that gives her away; the long red-blonde hair that is knotted and matted with blood now, but still somewhat recognizable. And I know that this must be the girl from District 4. I feel pity for her; she was so beautiful in the Capitol. And now she's unrecognizable but by her hair.

"You're alive," she says, somewhat garbled. I nod.

"Yeah."

"Thought you were dead," she says, taking a shaky step towards me.

"Not yet," I say. I nod towards the bodies. "You kill them?"

"Only the girl," she says. I nod again. The girl from 4 is unarmed, so what am I waiting for? I need to kill her, but everything about me is moving slow. I can't even feel my feet anymore.

Suddenly, she grabs a knife from a nearby crate and lunges forward. Before I can react, she's sliced my forehead open, sending blood streaming into my eyes. I scream and slash out blindly with my own knife; it meets flesh and she screams too before falling silent.

I press one of my gloved hands to my forehead, but it does no good; hot and thick blood keeps crashing into my eyes, making them sting. I can't see, only sob with pain. Where is the girl? I can't see her! Where is she?

Suddenly, the cannon goes. What's going on? She's dead? The girl from 4 is dead? I clear my eyes just enough to see that the flesh I met with my knife was her throat. She lies at my feet, blood gushing from the gaping wound I slashed in her throat. Her remaining eye stares blankly at the wall.

I leave the girl and stagger my way outside, blinded by my own blood. As I step onto the bloodstained snow, trumpets blare. Over some speaker, Caius Glorystream's voice shouts over the fanfare.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Thirty-sixth Hunger Games: Terra Coppersmith of District 8!"

I've won.

The hovercraft appears over me out of nowhere, dropping a ladder down to where I stand. With the hand that's not currently pressed to my bleeding forehead, I grasp a rung. Instantly, I'm frozen, and the ladder pulls me up, taking me away from the arena at last. It pulls me up inside the hovercraft, where the current releases me and I collapse on the floor.

The lights in here are too bright, and I'm terrified. I don't trust whoever is on this hovercraft to not put me back in the arena and leave me there. People in bright clothing are bustling past me now; someone takes my hands away from my head and wraps a bandage around my wound.

"She'll need to get into surgery immediately," someone says nearby, and I press myself backward against the grey walls. It's difficult with my feet and hands.

"No, no surgery!" I say, but I'm weak and really quite helpless. Someone in a lab coat comes at me with a needle, and despite my protests, injects me in the arm.

I scream, then everything goes dark.


	55. Flesh and Bone

** Terra Coppersmith **

My eyes open; where am I? Where am I in the arena? I've overslept; where's Fletcher? Where's Fletcher?

I look around in confusion for a minute before I realize. Fletcher's dead, and I'm the victor. I also notice that I'm strapped into a bed and am unable to move my arms.

"Hello? Somebody? Hello?" I call, but my voice seems weak. Where am I? I'm able to turn my head from side to side, thankfully, and that helps me figure out that I'm in some sort of hospital room. The surgery! What did they do to me? Did they put gems above my eyes or whiskers in my cheeks?

Before I can check, something cold goes into my arm and I black out again.

I come to later, but I don't know how much later. There're no windows in here. I think this might be a different room. I'm not sure if it's the shock or the drugs that they have pumping into my arm, but I feel numb still. I'm the victor, shouldn't I feel something?

But I don't feel anything.

Then I black out again.

I come to properly, finally, but I don't know how long has passed. Hours? Days? I think it might be days. Nothing hurts anymore, which is nice. The tubes have been taken out of my arm, and I'm no longer restrained.

Can it be real that I won the Hunger Games? Me, Terra Coppersmith? And after hardly killing anyone? Two people, it was two tributes. Their blood is on my hands, and I can't shake it off. I killed them so I could be here; the guilt is overwhelming. I can't think about it right now.

I shakily start checking myself over, to see what's different. I hold my hands up to my eyes and get my first shock. I'm missing my fourth finger on my right hand, and the pinky finger of my left. There're just stumps left of those two fingers; like they were never there. The skin turns lighter and slightly pink at the scarred tips.

I guess the frostbite got them. My other fingers look okay, but it's going to take some getting used to, missing two fingers. I have a sick feeling in my stomach from looking at my hands. There's nothing I can do, though. Who would have thought at the beginning of the Games that I would get frostbite?

With my newly mutilated hands, I feel the rest of me, starting with my face. My nose and ears are still intact, which is a relief at least. I feel my forehead, where the girl from 4 slashed me, and it's smooth. Like there was no cut.

How many days have passed since I won? Two? Three? Maybe even four? There's usually a break of a few days between the end of the Games and the interviews, but I never really knew why before now. I guess every tribute has to recover in the hospital.

I should get up and look around, maybe find Shuttle if she's around, or if she's not, an attendant or something. I need to get home to Iry, and I'm feeling fine. I throw off the light covers, and pause, looking at my feet.

Replacing my flesh and bone are two metal contraptions.

I don't move for a minute, just take in what I'm seeing and try to process it. From just below my knees, my legs and feet are gone. In their place, there are two high tech legs and feet; silver and black. The lights overhead shine off the metal.

My legs are gone.

I shouldn't have walked on them when I knew they were frostbitten, but what choice did I have? I throw the covers back over them, hiding what I can't bring myself to understand yet. I bury my face in my hands and sob. I'm no longer whole. I will never be able to distance myself from the Games now, now that every step I take will be a reminder of them.

What was the point of winning? I didn't win. Does anyone ever win? I survived, I survived the longest, but I had to kill and lose parts of myself, body and soul, to do so. That's a heavy price to pay for a game nobody wanted to play.

It finally sinks in now that the twenty-three other tributes I went in with, who I saw at Training and heard at their interviews, are dead. All dead. And Fletcher…

I'm still sobbing when the door opens. I look up to see a woman in a white lab coat come in with a clipboard; she appears shocked at my state.

"Ah, you've seen them," she says, suddenly understanding. I nod.

"It could have been much worse. We were able to save your face and most of your extremities, and only two of your fingers were too damaged to save. But your feet were turning gangrenous when you won, and we had no choice," she says, and she sounds sympathetic. An assistant who came in after her offers me a tissue.

"What's going to happen now?" I ask in a small voice, taking the tissue and wiping my eyes. "When can I get out of here?"

"Now. You can get dressed and go to meet your team," the doctor says, smiling.

"Will they hold?" I ask, referring to my new legs. I hate them, but what choice do I have but to use them?

"Yes. It might take some getting used to, but you'll be alright walking for today."

After they leave, I carefully swing my legs off of the bed, averting my eyes from the metal that used to be my skin. Slowly, I put weight on them. I wobble a little, but they hold me up, like the doctor said. I walk back and forth beside my bed a few times, getting the feel of these new legs; at the end of the bed on a table is an outfit; the very same outfit that I wore in the arena.

I don't want to, but I put it on. I hate it.

I walk to the wall where the doctor came in, knowing there's a door there; in a few seconds it opens and I escape my hospital room. Outside the door is a long hallway with no other doors, just a dead end on my right. So I go left, and walk along the corridor, keeping one hand on the wall. Every once in a while, my legs buckle and I have to hold on to the wall for dear life.

I round the corner, and there's my team standing there; Shuttle, Woven, Postumius, and Damius. My mentors are beaming, Postumius is bouncing and dressed in a bedazzled orange suit. Damius is smiling calmly at me, hands behind his back.

I stumble, then move as quickly as I can towards them; I know that I'm being filmed right now. I'm a victor, and I need to keep looking like one.

I throw myself into Shuttle's arms first, and she hugs me tight. "Well done, Terra," she whispers. Woven hugs me next, even though she was Fletcher's mentor. She's still District 8, though, and I'm her victor too.

I refrain from hugging Postumius, opting for a handshake instead. "Wonderful job, Terra!" he says. "You're the talk of Panem!"

"Thank you, Postumius," I say. Damius hugs me, though, and pats me on the back.

"I'm sorry about Fletcher," he whispers in my ear. I nod.

"Me too."

Damius takes me then, away from the cameras that are pressing in too closely. Nobody's said anything about my injuries yet, but it will come, and I don't know how I'm going to react to that. Everything is too much right now; I really just want to go to bed and stay there for the rest of my life. No, I have to be strong for Iry. And missing fingers aren't a big deal in District 8, are they? Lots of people have lost fingers in the factories.

We don't talk until we reach the elevator, Damius pressing the button for the eighth floor. He doesn't look at me, but he says, "I've designed the dress so that it comes to the floor, if that makes you feel better."

"Thank you," I say.

When the doors of the elevator open, my prep team from before the Games swarm around me, chattering in their high-pitched accents about what a hit I am, and how exciting the finale was. All I can think about is how bloody and horrifying that last scene was, how I slashed the girl from 4's neck open by accident. How I stood in pools of blood, still warm from the tributes lying on the ground.

"Terra?" Damius asks, concerned. I must have blanked. The prep team doesn't notice; one of the women, who has pink feathered hair and eyelashes in the shapes of birds, takes me by the arm and leads me to a table full of food.

An attendant places a plate in front of me with chicken, rice, and potatoes. My portion is small but delicious. My stomach's shrunk since the last time I was in the Capitol, and I can barely finish the food in front of me. I was so hungry in the arena, though, that I can't bear the thought of letting it go to waste.

"How many days has it been since the Games ended?" I ask, holding my fork awkwardly with my four fingered hand.

"Three," Damius says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "This is the third day."

How long has it been since I was at home? I add it up in my head. Six days in the arena, plus three days unconscious, then the six days in the Capitol- fifteen? Can it really just be over two weeks since I was at home? And I spent just as long in the arena as I did in Training and preparing?

Time has warped in confusing and unfamiliar ways.

After the meal, my prep team takes me back to my room to prepare me for tonight. Physically, at least. I don't think I'm going to ever be mentally ready to re-watch the Games, but that's what they're going to make me do tonight. The recap of the Games is mandatory watching for everyone in Panem.

My prep team chatters as they get me ready; I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. They must have orders to not mention my new additions, because nobody talks about my injuries.

I learn their names for the first time, since I bother to actually listen to them; the woman with pink hair is Sappho, the man with the blue wig and pale white skin is Lem; the woman with orange braids and the overlarge eyes is Tiffany. They're cheerful, but not very bright if you ask me.

I sit while they do my makeup and my nails- all eight of them now, and wait for Damius to come back. He finally does, holding a dress across his arm.

"Done?" he asks Sappho. She nods.

"You look lovely, Terra," Damius says, indicating for me to rise. I stand up, wobbling a little, and take off the robe I've been wearing all this time, after I took off the arena uniform earlier.

Damius slips the dress over my head, but won't let me see it until he's adjusted it.

"Alright, go ahead and look," he says, and I turn to see myself in the full-length mirror. The dress is dark gold and blue, falling in waves over my feet. My hair is tied up on top of my head very elegantly. My makeup is subtle, but attractive. All in all, I look like a victor. A girl who is whole and not broken.

"It's lovely," I say, turning to my whole prep team. "Thank you."

"Oh, one last thing," Damius says, pulling something gold out of his pocket. "Before I forget, here's your token."

My hand goes to my throat, feeling for my necklace. I didn't even know that it was missing. Damius clasps my mother's ring around my neck, and I hold it tightly. It's like a piece of her is here with me. I miss her, and I miss my father too. I wonder if they'd be proud of me.

Postumis pokes his head in the door; he's even more orange than when I last saw him. In addition to the sparkling orange suit, he's put on orange lipstick and eyeshadow.

"Time to go!" he says, beaming from ear to ear. I suppose this is his first year as a successful escort, so he's extra happy.

"Ready?" Damius asks, and I nod. My prep team scurries out the door first, then Damius. I pause in the doorway and look Postumius dead in the eyes.

"Postumius?" I ask.

"Yes?"

"Orange really isn't your color." Then I sweep as elegantly as I can after Damius, tripping over my long skirt in the process.


	56. Remembering

** Terra Coppersmith **

My legs hurt and I'm terrified as I stand on another metal plate, this time under the stage. The last time I was waiting to be lifted by metal, I was being transported into the arena. Considering I just woke up this morning, I'm doing rather well by not running out of the place.

 _It's okay, Terra. You can watch this movie, and then you can go to bed._ I wonder if I'll go back to my old quarters in the Training Center after this. There are too many memories in that place. How am I going to manage District 8?

The plate under me starts to rise, and I almost fall off. I don't have my balance yet. Suddenly, I'm blinded by bright stage lights and deafened by the cheer of the crowd. I try to smile, but I'm squinting in the light and I really just want to sit down and howl.

I'm glad that my family can't see what's happened to me yet.

My prep team and Postumius are already onstage; Postumius beaming under the attention. Damius takes a few bows, but is a gentleman, not going insane like the man in orange. Shuttle and Woven wave too, standing off to the side. As I rise up and stop at the height of the stage, Marcus steps over to me and takes my hand.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Terra Coppersmith! The victor of the Thirty-sixth Hunger Games!" he cries, holding my hand up in victory. I smile as much as I'm able. There're too many people; I need to get out of here. They cheer and stamp their feet, chanting my name. Every camera is on me, and I just keep smiling and waving a little.

I'm honestly relieved when Marcus leads me over to the red velvet chair and lets me sit down. I almost slip, but I manage. I don't want anyone to know what's happened to me. I don't want to know, even.

"How are you feeling tonight? Excited?" Marcus asks, and I nod. "Let's get this show on the road!"

The lights dim and the Capitol seal appears on a screen behind me. I can't move; I'm frozen in horror. I don't want to see this; don't want to see what I did, what the other tributes did, how they died, and how I killed them.

I can't see Fletcher.

The movie is going to be three hours exactly, and the first half hour focuses on the reapings, our scores, and our interviews before we entered the arena. All the other tributes only get to say a few words, but my interview is played in full.

_"I promised my sister I would go home to her, and I intend to keep that promise."_

Well I kept it, but I'm not the same person who made the promise.

They play half of Fletcher's interview, because we were allies, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying. He was confident, witty… and now he's dead.

The Games start then, and it's bloody and horrible, especially when the girl from 2 kills the little girl from 9 savagely, and they show me shooting the boy from 11, which makes me sick.

I get to see other things throughout the Games that I didn't know about beforehand. Like the siblings getting attacked by spiders, the girl from 11 being killed by Alyss, the giant bird that attacks the Careers. It's like any other Hunger Games that I've ever watched.

The movie focuses on me mostly, of course, and by doing that it also focuses on Fletcher. I see what the audience saw now, and I want to turn their eyes away from my private moments. My cheeks heat up when he kisses me, and half the audience sighs. I know now that Deecey saw everything, and I don't know how to feel about that either.

The tribute who surprised us that one night was the girl from 7, I find out. She gets killed later by the girl from 6. Later on in the Games, I watch the girl from 3 be ripped apart by a mutt, and the boy from 6 be killed by a snake. The deaths are gruesome, but no more than any other Hunger Games I've seen in the past.

And then Fletcher says he loves me, and I can hear sighing and some weeping in the audience. I sit stone-faced, trying not to cry my eyes out. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry Fletcher!_

Now I see what everyone saw, when the weather turned and Fletcher sacrificed himself for me. How I ran away, sobbing, while he stood and faced his death bravely. The Careers didn't even give him a chance to speak before the boy from 1 stabbed him. Fletcher crumpled to the ground without even raising his hand in self defense.

The end is as horrible as I remember. There's blood everywhere, and then I lash out blindly and rip the girl from 4's throat open with my knife. The movie ends with me standing, bleeding heavily, watching the hovercraft descend.

The lights come back on and people cheer and clap for me, giving me a standing ovation. For killing innocent people. None of the tributes in the arena were very old. The boy from 11 was younger than me, and I killed him.

The anthem begins to play and I rise just as the president enters holding a crown on a red velvet cushion. He smiles as a girl takes the cushion away and he is left holding the golden crown. I stand before him, discovering that I'm taller, and he reaches up to place the crown on my dark curls. I smile and curtsy as best I can, but I go off balance and Marcus has to grab my arm so I can right myself.

"Don't forget to watch tomorrow night when we have our final interviews with Terra Coppersmith, our victor!" Marcus calls to the audience, and then I'm led away by Shuttle, off the stage. As soon as the cameras are off me, I burst into tears.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay," Shuttle says, pulling me to her.

"I shouldn't have left him," I sob. There's a lot more than that going on, but that's the only coherent thought I can get out.

"You didn't have a choice. You're here. It's what he would have wanted."

"I killed them. I killed them to get here," I say, breaking down completely. Shuttle grabs my arms and squeezes them so tight it hurts.

"We're going to have a talk tonight about what winning means, okay? But for now, you're going to the Victory Banquet, and you have to look like a happy victor, to keep up the façade. Can you do that?"

I nod, wiping my eyes and smearing my mascara at the same time. Lem is passing by and lets out a cry of horror at my smeared face.

"Lem, get your team over here. We need to get her presentable and looking normal before she goes anywhere," Shuttle says authoritatively. Out of nowhere, Tiffany whips out a makeup bag, and the three stylists fix my face up in a matter of minutes.

Just as they're done, someone else grabs my arm and I'm pulled outside into a waiting car. Shuttle and Postumius crowd in beside me.

"Isn't this just so exciting?" Postumius says, looking even more manically happy than he was onstage. "This is the greatest Hunger Games we've ever had!"

I don't speak. Guilty or not over killing the tributes in the arena, I don't think I'd have a problem taking this moron out. He's lucky I don't have my bow.

The Victory Banquet is elaborate and beautiful, but I don't get to eat much of it. There're too many people coming by to congratulate me, patting me on the shoulder and getting their pictures taken with me. The cameras are everywhere, and I have to smile until my face hurts. I stay sitting as long as I can, hiding the silver and black apparatuses that are carefully tucked under my skirt.

Everyone's scattered; I see Woven sometimes, talking with different people; Postumius goes by every once in a while, and every time I see him he's more intoxicated. I wonder if they might really replace him next year, even though he's had a successful run of being escort. Or maybe he'll be reassigned somewhere else, which would be a blessing to us all.

I see the president sometimes, which makes sense since I'm in his home. He frightens me a little, but I don't see him often enough to dwell on it. I'm too focused on smiling for the cameras and trying to hold myself together.

"Congratulations, Terra! Can you tell me how you're feeling?" says one man with a microphone in my face.

"Happy," I say, then I'm relieved to see Shuttle approaching.

"She's had enough for one night. You'll see her interview tomorrow," she says, shooing the press away from me. She leans in to me, whispering in my ear, "We can leave within a half hour. Woven is trying to find Postumius."

"We can just leave him here and see if he makes it back," I say.

"I wish, but that would reflect poorly on us. Oh, here they come," she says, straightening up. An attendant has one of Postumius's arms around his neck, Woven has the other. Postumius is flat out drunk, still giggling a little.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Shuttle says. Postumius lets go of Woven's neck and throws up on the floor.

"I want him fired," Woven says, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Don't we all. Let's get him to the car," Shuttle says. Two more attendants arrive, one to clean up the floor, and the other helps drag our escort out to the waiting car. Shuttle offers me her arm and I take it gratefully. My legs begin to buckle on the stairs going out, and on all sides I'm being pressed by curious guests and cameras. I give one last smile and a wave, then I step into the car, the doors slam, and the driver peels away, leaving the mansion behind.

Inside the Training Center, level eight, Woven and Damius dump Postumius on the ground, not even bothering to put him on the couch this time. As soon as I step in the door, I collapse, my legs not supporting me any longer, and I burst into tears.

Shuttle pulls me up and helps me to one of the couches in the living room. "There, there. I know. I know exactly how you feel." She holds me close and rocks me a little while I cry, which is comforting.

She pulls back and holds my face in her hands. "This is how it is to win, Terra. They say you won, but you won nothing. You survived the arena, and you had to do some god-awful things to get out. Don't let the guilt overwhelm you, Terra, or you'll be drowning in it for the rest of your life. That or alcohol, which is what plenty victors turn to."

"They're all dead, Shuttle! I trained alongside them, I barely knew them, but they're all dead!" I sob.

"Everyone died in my Games too, Terra. And in Woven's. We've been where you are. I had allies that I cared for too, even though I was told not to get attached. I killed my ally myself, when it was just the two of us. I lived, she didn't. The Careers turned on each other at the end of your Games and killed each other; Fletcher sacrificed himself for you. He died a noble death for you. That's better than what all the other tributes got."

"If I hadn't run, then maybe I could have saved him," I say.

"You would have died alongside him, and a Career would be the victor, getting gifts for their already privileged district. You killed two people, Terra, but you've provided for your whole district. You're saving more lives than you took."

"I-I'm not whole anymore," I sob, and I look at my hands with the missing fingers. "They took my legs and my fingers."

"They took our souls when they put us in the arena. Nobody is going to even look twice at your legs, Terra. They're your reminder that you lived, that you were the strongest. That you need to keep strong. You'll be seeing your sister soon; you'll have to be strong for her."

I cry for a while longer, and Shuttle holds me. She whispers in my ear, "Your missing parts make you safe from the Capitol predators, Terra. They're not going to want a victor who's damaged."

I pull away and look at her. She's deadly serious. "You're only damaged to them, and that makes you safe. You can go home and live as normal a life as you can after this. Woven and I can never do that."

I understand what she means, and it strikes horror into my heart. Postumius snorts and groans behind us; we all ignore him.

"Your last interview is tomorrow at two. You should get some sleep before that happens," Woven says, breaking the silence that's fallen over us all.

"Come on, Terra. Let's get you to bed," Shuttle says, giving me a hand up and letting me lean on her all the way down the hall to my room. As far as I know, Postumius has been left on the floor for the night. My quarters are familiar, but hold painful memories.

Shuttle stays with me as I wash off the makeup, take down my hair, and change into a pair of soft pajamas. She helps me take off my new legs, placing them on the bed next to me once I've climbed in.

"I can't sleep alone!" I say, suddenly panicky as Shuttle gets up to leave. Her face is sympathetic.

"I couldn't either. Still can't, actually," she says.

"Can you stay with me?" I ask, and I feel like a little kid when I do. She pauses, then nods.

"Of course I will."

An attendant brings in a folding mattress and places it next to my bed. Shuttle climbs in and pulls the covers up over her shoulders. "You alright?" she asks me. I don't know what to say to that.

"It's okay. It's okay to not be alright. Go to sleep; you'll feel a little better in the morning."

The lights go out, but I find myself staring at the ceiling until I drift off into a hazy half-sleep. I don't like the dark, and from the tossing and turning Shuttle is doing from the bed next to me, I don't think she does either.


	57. The Final Interview

** Terra Coppersmith **

_"Don't worry, I'll always be here," Fletcher says. He's being pulled away from me, and I'm reaching out for him, but he's too far away. Then the lion pounces on him, ripping out Fletcher's throat, before turning on Iry and then Deecey. And I scream as I watch my family be slaughtered in front of me, as I sit powerless to help._

"Terra, Terra wake up. It's just a nightmare."

I fight against whoever is shaking me, lashing out with my hand and meeting flesh. "Terra, stop, it's just me! Shuttle! Your mentor!"

Slowly I start to properly wake up and realize that I'm in my bed in the Training Center. It was just a dream, a nightmare. I sit upright as fast as I can and now I see Shuttle standing next to my bed, holding one hand to her cheek.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I say, reaching out and trying to feel her cheek, to take away the mark I caused. Then I don't see Shuttle anymore; she's been replaced by the girl from 4 with the mutilated face and neck, who I killed. I shake my head and clutch it tightly in both hands.

"It's okay, don't worry. Welcome to the world of nightmares," she says, sitting down on the edge of my bed. I have tears pouring down my cheeks, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand.

"Do they go away?" I whisper. Shuttle shakes her head.

"They haven't for me. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"What time is it?" I ask, trembling all over. Shuttle puts her hand on my arm.

"Almost ten. Your prep team will be here in a minute. I'll order you some breakfast."

I sit, head in my hands, as Shuttle goes to the microphone on the wall and asks for some food. She brings it over to me and places the plate next to me on the bed.

"Muffin. It'll keep you going today," she says, smiling. Her cheek is bright red from where I slapped her.

"I'm sorry about your face," I say.

"I've had worse," she says, smiling grimly. She's a victor too. She understands, I know. While I eat, she helps me put my legs back on; they're uncomfortable and make me ill to look at. I miss the brown flesh that used to be there, instead of these metal contraptions.

I barely finish my muffin before my prep team comes in with their tools and bags of makeup. Today is my last day in the Capitol, and I'm thrilled. I can go home later and start to forget everything. I can see Iry and Deecey.

"What's the plan, Damius?" Tiffany asks brightly. She's wearing fuchsia today, which actually goes well with her orange hair.

"Subtle. Go with red lips, but make the rest of her neutral," Damius says, coming in the door after them.

"You'll be okay if I go get ready myself?" Shuttle asks. I nod, and she gets up to leave.

"Rough night?" Damius asks, looking at the dark circles under my eyes.

"I've had better," I say, then I don't have to say anything more as my stylists twitter about their own Capitol business. I don't look in the mirror until they're done with my makeup, which is several hours later. They've left my hair fairly natural, only pulled back a little from my face. I look pretty, not like a murderer at all.

Damius brings over the red dress that I'm to wear to my interview. It's long and flowy, and will cover my injuries well. As for my hands, there's nothing that can be done about them.

"Come on, you'll be on the air in half an hour," Damius says after I'm dressed, offering me his hand to help me up. I stumble a little, but I manage, only hobbling a little on my way down the hallway.

The living room has been transformed; flowers everywhere, cameras set up ready to record the interview. Marcus Fireglen himself is sitting on a couch in the middle of the room, but he rises to greet me when I enter.

"Lovely to see you again my dear," he says, giving me a light kiss on both cheeks.

"Likewise," I say, allowing myself to be helped to the couch. I sit down and arrange my skirt around my feet.

"Don't be nervous, you'll do just fine," Marcus says reassuringly, and I smile.

Marcus talks to the cameramen for a little bit, then orders some water from an attendant. I simply sit, feeling more and more anxious by the minute. It's almost a relief when one of the cameramen starts counting backwards, announcing that we're on the air.

"Welcome back, Panem!" Marcus says, looking cheery as always. "We're here with our latest victor, Terra Coppersmith from District 8! Now, tell me, Terra, how are you feeling today?"

I might as well be honest. "Tired. I didn't get much sleep," I say.

"You must have been just too excited for today," Marcus says, and I only smile in answer.

"Let's get straight to what everyone wants to hear, shall we? You had a pretty easy time of it in the arena, didn't you? You had a good ally and good sponsors too," he continues.

"I was so grateful to those who sent me gifts; it truly saved my life," I say.

"But you got to hide out at the mountain with your 'ally' almost the whole Games. How was that?"

How do I answer that? "Besides us getting attacked, it was a happy time. I was happy when I was at the mountain," I say.

"Now, did you know Fletcher back home, or was your romance a whirlwind one?"

I can't talk about this in front of everyone in Panem. I feel my cheeks reddening. "I barely knew him in District 8. I just got to know him better after the reapings," I say, lowering my voice.

"I'd say you two got to know each other very well! He sacrificed himself for you, after all. Do you know why he did that?"

"He didn't want to kill anyone, and by being victor he would have had to eliminate at least one tribute. So he died on his own terms, because he loved me, and he wanted me to win instead," I say, my voice cracking at the end. I wish he wasn't dead. I wish he was by my side now.

"He was a pretty special fellow, wasn't he?" Marcus says, and I can only nod. "Your love story was one of the greatest hits of the Games, I'd say. I think everyone loved watching you two fall in love."

I smile, but tears are glistening in my eyes. Marcus notices this and switches topics quickly.

"You two ran into some challenges, though. I swear, my heart nearly stopped when I saw that lion so close to you two. But you took care of it pretty quickly, and did some neat first aid on Fletcher. I have to say, I was impressed."

"I was so scared when I saw it, I don't think I'll ever like cats the same again," I say, and Marcus chuckles.

"Now, you didn't escape the arena without some injuries yourself, I've heard."

I freeze. No, please don't talk about this. Please.

"Something about frostbite? Could you elaborate for us?" Marcus asks. I have to. I don't have a choice.

Shakily, I hold up my hands for him to see. "I lost two fingers, even with the gloves. It was that cold," I say. Taking a deep breath, I move my skirts up to reveal my artificial legs. Marcus gasps.

"I walked on my feet while they were frostbitten, and so they had to take them off," I say simply, but tears are seriously threatening to fall now, now that everyone has seen how damaged I am. I can only imagine what my family is thinking back home. How horrified they must be.

"You're a very brave girl, Terra," Marcus says, clasping my right hand in his own. "You didn't have a choice but to walk to the Cornucopia. I'm sorry to see your injuries." And I think he really means it too.

"Who would have thought at the beginning of the Games that you would get frostbite," Marcus says, getting back into a cheerful rhythm. I drop my skirts, letting them hide my prosthetics.

"It was a shock for sure when the snow started to fall," I say.

"How was the desert in the beginning?"

"It was hot, but it was also beautiful. There were little paradises hidden in there, if you knew where to look. It was like being on another planet, and when the snow started to fall, it was like you were standing in the middle of nothing," I say. All I can see is the rolling sand dunes mixed with falling snow. I think I hate snow now.

"You fared pretty well until the last day, though didn't you? It was a close one between you and Calypso," Marcus says. "It was one of the most dramatics showdowns that I've ever seen in the Games."

The blood, the blood, the girl with the mangled face and me standing in pools of still warm blood just a few steps away from the bleeding corpses on the ground.

"I did what I had to do to become victor," I say simply.

"And what a victor you are! You've overcome all the challenges thrown at you, and now you'll get to go home and be a hero in your own district! Tell me, Terra, what's the first thing you're going to do when you get home?" Marcus asks, leaning forward towards me.

"I'm going to hug my sister and my best friend," I say. "I've been away from them for too long."

"How does it feel to be the victor of the Thirty-sixth Hunger Games?"

"Like a dream, Marcus. Like a dream." I didn't specify whether it was a good dream or a nightmare; it's edging towards nightmare.

"Anyone you'd like to thank before we go?" Marcus asks.

"I'd like to thank my mentors, Shuttle and Woven, for helping me all along, my family for everything they've done, and my sponsors for keeping me alive," I say. I don't have anything to thank Postumius for. I haven't even seen him yet today; probably still sleeping off last night's alcohol. Some escort he is.

"Terra Coppersmith, well done again. I look forward to seeing you back in the Capitol in a few month's time for your Victory Tour," Marcus says, and he's shaking my hand, ending the interview; the cameras go off and Shuttle comes around the back of the couch to help me up.

"Always a pleasure, Miss Coppersmith. You take care now," Marcus says, and I know he's sincere when he says it.

"Thank you, Marcus," I say, then I allow Shuttle to lead me away from the living room.

"What now?" I ask her in the hallway.

"Do you have anything you need to grab from your room?" Shuttle asks. I shake my head.

"I'm wearing my necklace now, so no," I say. I don't have anything else that's mine here in the Capitol.

Woven comes up behind us and leans against the wall next to me. "Ready to go?" she asks casually.

"Where are we going now?" I ask.

"Home," Shuttle says, and I smile for real this time.

Home.


	58. The Journey Home

** Terra Coppersmith **

The scenery outside the window goes by so fast that it blurs together. The train is taking me along the same journey I took when I was reaped, just over two weeks ago, only now it's in reverse. I'm the only tribute who left home to return to it, and it hurts inside when I think of it.

As the world outside goes by, taking me farther away from the Capitol every second, I try to piece together who I am again. Terra Coppersmith, age sixteen. Who went to school and worked in the factories. Who has a little sister who's only eight, and a best friend that I'm going to have to face soon. What am I going to do about Deecey? Is she going to care that I fell in love with the boy she liked? Does it even matter now that I've won?

I know that I'm not the same person I was when I left. I left parts of me behind in the Capitol and in the arena, physically and mentally. I don't know what I'm going to do at home.

"Hey, how are you doing now?" Shuttle asks, coming to sit down beside me. Woven's off somewhere else, and Postumius is supposed to be escorting me home, but he's hungover in a bedroom in the back of the train.

"I'm okay," I say, but I feel blank.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

I turn to look at her. "What's going to happen at home? Everything is going to be different now. What did you do when you won?"

"I slept a lot. My family was happy to have me back, but I know they judged me for what I did in the arena. It got easier after a while, but not by much." Shuttle has a faraway look in her eyes.

"The arena messed us up, didn't it?" I say, looking out the window again.

"All the victors have damage; some are able to move past it, some aren't. Don't self-medicate yourself if you can help it. Once you go down that path, there's no going back," she says.

"How am I going to handle Iry? I'm her guardian again, and we'll have to move, and I don't know how I'm going to do it."

"Woven and I are just down the street from you in the Victor's Village, you know that. I'll help you get settled and keep an eye on you."

"Was it worth it?" I ask.

"Was what worth it?"

"Winning. Was it worth all the pain?"

Shuttle doesn't answer for a little bit. "I don't know," she finally says. We sit in silence for a few minutes more, then she gets up and walks away, leaving me to look out the window until the day turns into night.

Woven comes and gets me after a while; supper is ready. She helps me along to the dining room, since it's harder than normal to walk in a moving train.

"I can't do this," I mutter.

"You can. We did," Woven says.

"You're not missing anything," I say bitterly. Woven stops and looks hard at me.

"I didn't lose anything in my Games, but I gained a lot of stuff." She knocks on her hip, which makes a metallic sound. "Broke my hip, three ribs, and I have a pin in my wrist now. That's added onto the mental stuff which you know all about," Woven says. "We've all suffered, Terra. You're strong. You can get through this beginning part, and even though it's never going to go away, you can move through it."

I nod.

"Let's go, then," Woven says, and we carry on down the hall.

Supper is delicious; the last Capitol dinner I'll have for a long time. Back to the rough fare of District 8, but I don't mind. That food tastes like home. After we're all done eating, we all settle in the living room to watch my final interview.

"You did well," Shuttle says, and Woven nods.

"I'm glad it's over," I say. I'm all too aware of my missing fingers as I weave the remaining ones together.

"For now," Woven says dryly. "They'll drag us all back in a few months' time for the Victory Tour."

"Did I miss something?" Postumius says behind us, and we all jump. I almost burst out laughing at his appearance, the first time I've felt like laughing in days. Half of his orange curls are flattened, the other half standing out from his head like he's been shocked. His suit is the same one he wore last night, and it's wrinkled and uglier than ever.

"You only missed everything," Shuttle says, rolling her eyes.

"Where are we?" he asks.

"We're going to District 8?" I say. He must have been really out of it to not realize we were getting on the train.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Not long enough," Woven mutters, and I laugh a little.

"Go get something to eat, Postumius. You could use some water too," Shuttle says, and my confused escort wanders away towards the dining room.

"I'm going to talk to someone about getting him fired," Shuttle says. "Enough is enough."

"We could use someone who actually can escort," Woven says, agreeing.

Damius and my prep team didn't come along; they're staying in the Capitol to prepare for the Victory Tour.

"What happens to my prep team next year?" I ask. "After the Victory Tour, I mean."

"Well, if they don't get reassigned to another district, you'll see them all at next year's Games, when they're preparing the next tribute."

"I'll have to go, won't I?" I say quietly. Woven nods.

"All the victors have to attend the Games in the Capitol."

"We should go to bed," Shuttle says then, getting up. "We'll be home in the morning."

Just the thought of facing the dark on my own is terrifying. "Can I just stay here?" I ask.

"You can do whatever you want," Shuttle says, and my two mentors bid me goodnight and head to their own rooms.

The night is long and I don't sleep. I keep running my fingers over the scarred stumps on my hands. My legs ache, but I don't take off my prosthetics. I just keep them on. I changed from my interview dress into a shirt and leggings as soon as I got on the train, and I'm glad I did that; I'm more comfortable than I've been in weeks.

I'm scared for what the morning is going to bring.

I'm tired and scared by the time the sun starts to rise, reminding me of all the sunrises I saw in the arena. That brings back memories of Fletcher, and the arena, and now I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a sunrise the same way again.

The scenery is changing from trees and bushes to a more unnatural setting, with concrete and grey houses. When the leaves on the few bushes have turned black with soot, that's when I know that District 8 isn't far away. I can see it now, the smokestacks of the factories belching smoke and smog into the air even at this hour. The factories never stop.

"I see you're already awake," Shuttle says, coming in yawning.

"I didn't sleep," I say.

"I can tell by the dark circles under your eyes. Looks like we're almost home," she says, sitting down next to me.

"Looks like it," I say. I keep running my fingers over the missing spots on both hands. What are they going to say? What will they think of me?

"They'll just be glad you're home," Shuttle says, seemingly reading my mind. "Your sister is going to be so excited to see you."

The thought of seeing Iry brings a smile to my face. "There, there's the pretty smile that I know so well," Shuttle says, patting my head gently.

"It's only going to start again next year," I say. Someone else from District 8 is going to be reaped, and I'm going to accompany them to watch them die. It's unbearable to think about.

"You get used to it," Shuttle says, and she sighs. "It doesn't get easier, though."

"You brought one home," I say quietly.

"I've lost a lot more than I've brought home," she says. "I wish I could have gotten two victors out of you and Fletcher."

"They'd never allow that," I say.

"I know, but I can dream."

"I miss him," I say quietly.

"Me too, Terra. I do too. He was a good kid; you won't find better anywhere."

"Oh, look we're almost there," Postumius says disappointedly, coming in behind us.

"Don't you sound excited," I say, not bothering to look back at him.

"Go eat something, Posty," Shuttle says, and I grin slightly. He makes a sort of gobbling noise in shock, then wanders away to the dining room.

"Think we can be rid of him by the time the Victory Tour rolls around?" I mutter to Shuttle. She shakes her head.

"He brought home a victor; that'll give him some immunity for a while. Best we can hope for is him being transferred to another unfortunate district next year. As much as I'd like to see him gone, he's been too successful to fire."

"He did nothing," I say.

"I know," Shuttle says. The train starts to slow down at last. I feel stiff from sitting all night.

"Come on, let's get ready," Shuttle says, giving me a hand up. I stumble along the hallway, one hand on the wall, the other on Shuttle's arm.

"Morning," Woven says, coming out of her room. "Home at last."

"About time, isn't it?" Shuttle says.

All I can think about is how Fletcher will never return home alive. He's probably here in District 8, dead and buried, but I'll never see him again.

Why did I run? Why didn't I stay and die with him? I practically killed him. His blood is on my hands, and I won't ever be able to wash it away.

"Are you ready, Terra?" Woven asks. I blink a few times, then nod. Even though it's really early, the platform outside the train is packed with people; I can see cameras and the mayor, and regular citizens, waiting to welcome me home.

And my sister. And Deecey. And Mrs. Underfall.

"I'm going to walk out on my own," I say.

"Okay. You can do this," Shuttle says. I nod at her. I won the Games, I'm the victor, I can walk out and see my family. I kept my promise.

Then the doors slide open and I step out as steadily as I can onto the wooden platform outside the train. Cameras flash, lenses get stuffed in my face. I smile and wave for them, because that's what I'm supposed to do. This goes on for a few minutes, me just smiling and waving at the rest of the country through those camera lenses.

Then Iry can't hold back any longer and pushes her way through the crowd, throwing herself at me. She knocks me off balance, but Woven catches me, setting me upright again. Slowly, carefully, I sink down to the ground, holding Iry as tight as I can, like someone will take her away from me if I loosen my grip even a little bit.

"You did it," she whispers in my ear.

"I told you I would," I whisper back through her dark curls. I pull back a little and kiss her forehead. "I swear you've grown a foot while I've been gone."

"I missed you so much," she says, lip trembling.

"Don't cry, munchkin. I'm home now, and we can move into a new, big house, and if I can help it, you won't have to go to work anymore."

"Really? You can do that?"

"I'm the victor, aren't I?" I say, and we both smile. Shuttle gives me her arm and I pull myself up to standing. And I am face to face with Deecey.

There's a strange distance between us, like neither of us knows where to start. A lot of stuff happened while I was gone, and I'm not the same girl that left. Where does that leave me and Deecey then? The cameras press closer, documenting our reunion.

"You made it back," Deecey says, a little stiffly. Her hair is braided into a thousand little braids that hang down her back. She looks like she always does, my Deecey. How do I look to her, coming back like I have?

"Yeah," I say. Then Deecey throws her arms around me, and I throw my arms around her, and I hug her so tight it probably hurts her.

"Thanks for taking care of Iry," I say.

"It's no problem," she says, and we're both smiling, but hesitantly. Something's changed between us, and I don't know what. It makes my heart hurt, though, knowing that nothing is going to be the same from now on.

Mrs. Underfall comes over then, hugging me warmly and planting a kiss on my head. "Well done, dear," she says.

Iry slips her hand into mine, and I squeeze it. I'm home, I'm with the people I love best, I'm safe.

But I feel so hollow.


	59. Victor's Village

** Terra Coppersmith **

The sun shines in my kitchen window, sending streaks of light across the floor. It's beautiful. The light is beautiful, and so is the house I'm now living in, but it's not home. Home is the little house with the two windows my father put in, where I grew up, where I lived my whole life.

This house is probably ten times the size of my childhood home. The kitchen itself is bigger than the whole old house on Engineering Road. There's a library filled with books, Capitol approved of course; a living room, a parlor, six bedrooms, most of which are unused. Iry has one, and I have one, and the others are for nobody really. Three bathrooms, which nobody needs.

There's everything anyone could ever want here, and I hate it.

It's been three weeks since I came back from the Games, and I've been trying to forget it, forget any of it ever happened. I do quite well during the day, when I have Iry to look after and get to school on time. During the day I go to visit Shuttle or Woven, who also don't work. I don't go to school anymore, so I have to figure out what to do with myself.

"Victors are expected to find themselves a hobby, instead of working, you know," Woven had said a few days after we got back, over a cup of tea. "You should think about yours."

"I don't know what I like to do," I said.

"Find something. They'll want to see it by the time the Victory Tour rolls around."

"What's your hobby, then?" I asked.

Woven raised her eyebrow. "They don't care about me anymore," she said, and that's how she left it.

After three weeks, I still haven't gotten a decent conversation in with Deecey. We see each other, but our talks are superficial. Neither of us wants to breach the giant topic lying between us. I miss her so much, but I don't know how to start.

Someone knocks on the door, making me startle. I'm terrified at any sudden movement or noise. I can manage myself alright during the day, but at night it's another matter. I'm plagued all night long by nightmares of the Games, and as a result, I don't sleep much.

I try to walk as quietly as I can to the door, but it's difficult; I haven't mastered my new legs yet. I got a letter yesterday from some doctor in the Capitol saying that they'll send me crutches, so I'm waiting on that. Maybe that will make it easier to get around. I don't leave the house much anymore; mostly just to take Iry to school.

Peering through the peephole, I see that it's just Shuttle, so I open the door quickly.

"Hi," I say, stepping back awkwardly to let her in.

"Good to see you too," Shuttle says, taking off her shoes as I shut the door behind her.

"What's the latest news?" I ask as we walk into the kitchen. I pour Shuttle a cup of coffee and she wraps her fingers around it gratefully.

"The usual. Someone got whipped in the town square because they stole something; the factories are carrying on like normal. Same old District 8," she says.

Either Shuttle or Woven comes by every day to check on me. We never expressly talk about the Games, but we all know it's hanging over us. Mostly we talk about what's happening in District 8 which is, to say the least, not a lot.

"I'm thinking of getting a cat," I say.

"Oh?"

"Iry's been begging for one for years, and now I can actually afford one. Give me something to do during the day."

"Might be good for you. I can see if I can find someone who has kittens if you want," she says, and I nod.

"That would be nice. Getting around still isn't easy."

"We know, you never leave your house."

"Some doctor wrote to me telling me that they'll send crutches. That might help," I say.

"It might. Oh, I got your mail for you," Shuttle says, shoving some letters forward to me. I pick up the top envelope, marked with the Capitol seal.

"What do they want now?" I mutter.

"Something to do with the Games," Shuttle says. I roll my eyes, pulling out the single sheet of paper.

"Government sanctioned hobbies? Really?" I say, looking at the paper front and back.

"Oh, you got yours did you," Shuttle says, taking a sip of her coffee. "Better start choosing."

I look the list over and laugh at the options. "Pottery? Juggling? Birdwatching? The only birds we have here are pigeons, and even those are few and far between."

"I picked cooking as mine, back when they cared what I did," Shuttle says. "Just choose one; in a few years they'll forget about you a little bit more and move onto their next victim."

"I'm not doing juggling," I say.

"So don't. Do… flower arranging or something. Decorate your house; that can be your hobby. Easy and something you can do without too much effort."

"How about sleeping?"

"I can tell by the look of you that it's the wrong hobby. A hobby is something you like to do, Terra."

"I sleep," I say, but not convincingly.

Shuttle's face turns serious. "How are you doing, Terra?"

"Okay."

"I know you're not sleeping, so how are you holding up? The first few months are the roughest."

"I need to talk to Deecey," I say. "I mean really talk."

"So talk to her."

"She's got work right after school."

"Go find her after work. You're not physically fragile, Terra. I've seen you get around."

"It's hard," I say.

"I know it's hard. If it was easy, everyone would be a victor." Shuttle sits back in her chair across from me.

"Go see your friend. Make some sort of arrangement with her. You can drop your sister off on your way there if you need to; you know Iry likes me and Woven."

I smile at that. Iry's been so happy since I came home. She was allowed to paint her room pink, her house is huge, she has new friends in Woven and Shuttle, and I'm home. She doesn't even mind my legs; she finds them fascinating. I probably would have at eight as well.

"Promise me you won't shut yourself off from the world? You worked so hard to get back into it," Shuttle says, then glances over at the clock. "It's almost time for school to let out; I should go so you can pick Iry up."

I get up at the same time Shuttle does, and she gives me a hug on the way out.

"Go do it for Fletcher," she whispers, then she's gone, out the door and on her way home to her own mansion.

My whole body hurts with the weight of her parting words. Fletcher.

It's late summer now, and the heat beats down on my head as I walk slowly into town, towards the school. I don't like the heat; it reminds me too much of the desert. How am I going to handle winter?

There aren't many people in the streets at this hour, but the ones that are look at me suspiciously as I go by. I avoid their eyes and keep walking. It's like I've been branded on my forehead, Victor. All my life I've been ignored when I go in the streets, and this new attention makes me uncomfortable.

The bell rings just as I get to the school, so I wait awkwardly outside for my sister. She's the only one of her class that won't have to go to work after; I pulled some strings being victor and she's free to just be a kid after school now.

I recognize some of the kids from the community home, and I thank my lucky stars that I did come home. Everything might be different now, and I might not be okay, but at least Iry is safe. The kids from the home look sad, defeated; some have bruises on their faces from angry hands. I have kept Iry safe.

"Terra!" she calls over the crowd of kids talking. Her dark face lights up like the sun when she sees me, and I smile back. She means the most to me out of anyone in the world. Iry runs over and gives me a tackle hug, almost knocking me off my feet.

"How was school, munchkin?" I ask, pushing her curls that are so like mine back from her face.

"Good! We learned all about what District 8 does to help the Capitol!"

I hate the Capitol, I really do. It was their Games that took my legs, my fingers, my sanity, and now they're polluting my sister's mind, filling it with their own propaganda. I don't want to make Iry worry, though, so I keep my thoughts to myself and ruffle her hair instead.

"Ready to go home?" I ask, and she nods. We pass by my former classmates as we start to head home; some give friendly waves; others stare straight ahead like I'm not even there. Nobody knows how to treat a victor. I was eleven when Shuttle won, and she was only six years older than me. I don't remember ever saying a word to her until I got reaped, but everyone was careful around her too.

"Terra," someone calls, and I turn to see Deecey smiling nervously at me.

"Deecey," I say.

"How are you doing?" she asks.

"I'm well." This is all too formal, and all wrong for two girls who have been friends their whole lives. "Why don't you come by tonight after your shift is over?" I blurt out. Deecey smiles, the old smile that I know so well.

"Alright, that would be nice. See you after, then?"

"See you."

Iry chatters away about school all the way home, until we get to the gates of Victor's Village. "Why don't we live at home anymore?" she asks.

"This is our home now," I say.

"Why can't we go back to where we lived before?"

"Did you like it better?"

Iry thinks for a minute, her face scrunched up. "This house is nice too, but nobody else lives in here but us and Shuttle and Woven. So why do we have to live here?"

"Because I won," I say, walking up to our front door. Iry is silent for a little while more. We haven't talked about the Games either, mostly because she's eight and doesn't really understand what they mean.

"Was the Capitol pretty?" she asks once we get inside. "Is it like on television?"

"It's prettier in person," I say. I should get supper on so we can have something to give Deecey when she comes over tonight. She only works a four-hour shift for now, but that will change when she leaves school. It would have changed for me too if I hadn't been reaped.

"Maybe I can go there someday," Iry says dreamily.

"I hope you never do," I say.

"Why?"

"Because if you're in the Capitol it means you were reaped. And I never want that to happen to you."

"If I get reaped will I lose my legs too?" she asks quietly.

"Why don't you go play in your room?" I say, probably louder than I need to. Iry opens her mouth to argue, then shuts it and runs out of the kitchen. I sink down, shaking, onto the floor and bury my face in my hands. Iry being reaped is the worst thing I can think of in the whole world.

"Go. Hide. And win, Terra. Win for me. Okay? I love you."

Fletcher's words flash inside my head, as if he was speaking them to me now. I start to cry, rocking back and forth by the stove. Then the kitchen melts away and all I can see is the arena, the mountain and the sand, and Fletcher holding me by my shoulders telling me to run.

"I don't want you to fight them."

"Why not? Because I'm a girl?"

"Because I love you, that's why!"

And now he's dead and it's just me, alone in the arena, and the wind is blowing, and my hands, my hands are so cold.

"Terra! Terra!" Iry's frantic sobbing brings me back out of the arena, back into the kitchen where I'm curled up, still by the stove. Iry's face is streaked with tears and she's terrified. My fault, my fault.

"It's okay, it's okay," I say, pulling my sister in for a hug. She sobs against me, hiccupping every once in a while.

"You scared me," she says.

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," I whisper, rocking her back and forth like I did when she was a baby. "Just some bad memories, that's all."

"Don't do it again," she says.

"I'll try not to, I promise. I'll do my best. You know I keep my promises," I say. "Why don't you go over to Shuttle's house while I pull myself together here?" I say, brushing the tears from her face. Iry nods. "You go ahead and I'll watch you from the window."

Iry runs across the street and knocks on the heavy door at Shuttle's mansion. The house is so eerily quiet now that it gives me the creeps; I feel like I'm being watched constantly. Shuttle opens her door and lets Iry in without hesitation. I feel secure knowing that my mentor is still looking out for me. She's still my mentor.

Instead of putting supper on, I slump at the kitchen table instead. I get those flashbacks sometimes, but they're getting more frequent as the weeks go by. Usually it's Fletcher telling me to run, or the snowstorm, or the morning of the last day, when I killed Calypso. My memories are haunting me and crippling me, and all I want to do is cry.

I sit like this for a long time, watching the sun go down a little through my window. It's summer; the sun doesn't go down until late. I'm grateful for that, because I can't stand the dark anymore. A lot of my demons come in the dark, preventing me from sleeping.

After a while, someone knocks at my door. My automatic thought is always that someone is outside waiting to kill me, but so far I've been wrong. Peering through the peephole I see that it's Deecey, not a murderer.

"Hey," she says. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I say, pushing my hair back. It's particularly wild today. "Come on in."

"Where's Iry?" Deecey asks, looking around.

"She went over to Shuttle's."

"Ah."

The silence is deafening as both of us stand in the doorway too awkward to say anything else.

"I think we need to talk about everything," I finally say. Deecey nods, and we both go into the living room. I carefully perch myself on a couch, Deecey curls up in a chair across from me.

"So," she says.

"So." I have no idea where to start.

"I've missed you," Deecey says.

"Everything is so different," I agree.

"What's it like, you know, with your legs?" she asks, gesturing.

"Rough. Someone from the Capitol is going to send me crutches so I can get around easier."

Silence. I need to break the most delicate subject, but how? I finally just blurt it out.

"Fletcher," I say. Deecey jerks her head up to look at me full in the face.

"Fletcher," she says. She's waiting.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I kissed him and everything when I know that you liked him, and it's just so messed up in my head. I didn't think either of us was going to come out alive."

"It doesn't really matter now, does it? He's dead," Deecey says, but there's a hint of bitterness in her voice.

"I worried about what you would think the whole time I was in the arena."

"So why did you do it then?"

"I don't know. I guess I just fell for him." What a terrible excuse, Terra.

"And he died for you," Deecey said. "Don't get me wrong, I'd rather have you than him back, but it's still a sucky thing to do, Terra."

"I know! I know it was, but we both knew that we were so close to death the whole time in the arena. He told me that he wanted to ask me out before all of this happened."

"And what did you say to that?"

"I told him that I would have said no if he had asked, because of you."

"Oh, so you're blaming me for it," Deecey says.

"No! I told him that I would have said no because you liked him first, and I wouldn't do that to a friend. I thought about you the whole time, but the odds of Fletcher or me getting out of the arena were so slim, I let myself love him for those few days. And now he's dead, Deecey, so it doesn't matter anymore."

There's tension between Deecey and me, and I hate it, I hate it so much. "You don't know what it was like in the arena," I start, but she interrupts me.

"So tell me! You've been back three weeks and you don't tell me anything! You came home and you're obviously broken, and you don't leave the house except for Iry, and I don't know if I can talk to you like I used to anymore."

"It hurts, Deecey! The arena messed me up, it's messed everyone who's ever won up, and I don't know how to handle it. I don't talk about it because it's too painful to remember, but I remember it every night, every single night!"

Deecey has frozen, looking at me with a mixture of anger and pity, which I hate. "Listen, Terra. You've come home and you're not my friend who left. You're someone different, you've changed a heck of a lot, but you're still my friend. And I want to help you! Please, let me help you! I've missed you so much and I prayed for you every night when you were in the Capitol, for you to come home. And now you're back and nothing's as it was. God, I miss you," she says.

"I'm sorry about Fletcher," I whisper.

"I never talked to the boy in my life. I liked him, but I never knew him. Stop beating yourself up about it now; it doesn't matter. He's dead, it doesn't matter at all now. You're home, that's all that matters. And please, please Terra! Don't cut yourself off because of him."

"Everyone looks at me like I'm diseased or something when I walk down the street," I say, running my hands up and down my arms, searching for something to hold onto.

"You're a victor. We've had so few victors, Terra; in the history of the Games we've had four."

"We're doing better than 12; they've only had one," I point out.

"Yes, and the Careers districts have at least a half dozen each. The point is, you won. You're automatically different from everyone else in the districts. I hear the talking in the factories, in school. Everyone is proud of you; is happy for the food parcels we're going to get for the next year. But it's so rare to have a tribute come home."

"I'm glad I came home," I say, and I mean it this time.

"I am too. You have no idea how terrified I was at the fact you might not ever get back to District 8. Iry was scared too, but we distracted her from the Games a lot. We didn't make her watch a lot of it."

"Thanks. She's too young to really understand," I say.

Another pause.

"I want to understand, Terra. What it was like in the arena," Deecey says. I shake my head.

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet. I don't know if I'll ever be able to."

"That bad?" Deecey asks.

"It was a living nightmare," is all I'll say.

Deecey leaves her chair to come sit next to me. She laces her fingers in with mine, like we used to as kids. "You're my best friend; don't distance yourself from me. Makes me think you hate me or something."

"I could never hate you," I say. "Everything's just been confusing and awful lately."

"Yeah."

More silence.

"I don't care what you did in there, you'll always be my friend. I forgive you everything," she says, and I hug her tightly.

"I wish things had worked out differently," I whisper.

"Me too. But life carries on, doesn't it?"

"I suppose it does."

Another knock at the door makes us both jump. "I hate it when people come to the door," I say. Deecey helps me up then we both go to open the door; standing outside is Shuttle with Iry.

"Can she come home now? She's tired," Shuttle says. "Hello, Deecey."

"Hi Shuttle," Deecey says. They don't know each other at all really, but they respect each other. "Iry, come on. Want me to put you to bed?"

Iry nods and takes Deecey's hand, and together they go upstairs. Shuttle looks at me concernedly.

"Are you okay, Terra? Iry said that you were on the ground and crying."

"Had a flashback," I say.

"You're too tired. You need to get more sleep," Shuttle says.

"I don't like being alone at night," I admit.

"You need sleep; want me to stay the night? Might help with the nightmares."

I nod. "Okay."

"Right, I'll go make a bed up for myself," Shuttle says, locking the door behind her, taking off her boots, and heading upstairs.

"Shuttle?" I call after her.

"Yes?"

"Who stayed with you when you were a victor?"

"My mother," she says, then she's gone. It really strikes home that I'm an orphan. I miss my father so much, and I wonder what he'd think of who I've become. I wish he hadn't died. Both him and my mother. I was Iry's age when she died, but I remember her singing and her beautiful face waking me up each morning. I touch her ring that I have hanging around my neck, still. Iry hasn't asked for it back, and I'm reluctant to hand it over again. This necklace has gone to hell and back with me.

"I should get going; my mother will worry if I'm out too late," Deecey says coming back down. "Iry's in bed and wants you. I promise I'll come by again."

"I'm always free," I say smiling. Deecey hugs me tight.

"Don't be a stranger, Terra."

"I won't."

Then Deecey is gone, and I'm staring at the back of the door. I lock it, pause, then I turn off the lights downstairs and slowly make my way up the stairs to my room, where, even though Shuttle is staying, I know I will get no sleep tonight.


	60. The Victory Tour

** Terra Coppersmith **

My bones ache with the cold that's come alongside winter. It's been several months now since the Games ended, and now all of Panem will be reminded of what happened, because the Victory Tour starts today.

I hate the snow, hate every snowflake that falls down, and I hate the heaps of snow that pile up outside my door, making it hard to get around. I remember when I loved the snow, celebrated the first snow of every year with Iry. Now I just try to stay out of it as much as I can.

The Capitol doctors sent my crutches several months ago, so I got to get used to walking with those, and now I can walk without them quite well. I still stumble sometimes, but I don't get as tired as I did. I'm sleeping a little more now, but not by much. Every time I close my eyes some flashback plays and I have to open them again.

"How long are you going to be gone, again?" Iry asks, running in with her cat in her arms. Shuttle found some kittens three months ago, and we took one in. She's a grey tabby, who Iry named Ribbons. She keeps me company during the day when Iry is at school.

"A few weeks. Don't worry; Deecey and her mother are going to look after you while I'm gone, just like before," I say.

"And you'll come home, right?"

"Of course. I'll be home before you know it," I say, petting Ribbons on the head. Iry grins. She's happier than I've ever known her, now that her life is secure. Mine is somewhat secure, but being a victor is never normal. The district is slowly starting to forget about me a little, or at least they were. I can at least walk through town without every eye on me. I hope the Victory Tour won't change things again.

"They'll be here soon, you know that, don't you?" Shuttle says, walking in to the living room. She's holding a cup of tea that she made in the kitchen. She's here, and Woven is supposed to come over later, along with District 8's only male victor who I don't know very well, Woof.

"I know." I wish I didn't have to do the tour; I wish I could just forget about the Hunger Games and everything that happened in them, but the Capitol has made it impossible. In another half a year I'll be expected to go as a mentor to the Capitol for the next Games. Besides, I'm reminded of my time in the arena every time I look at my own hands.

"I'm going to go for a walk before they get here. Okay?" I ask, and Shuttle nods.

"Go ahead."

I bundle up in my fur coat from the Capitol, adding mittens and my fur lined boots to keep warm. I prefer mittens to gloves now, because you can't notice my missing fingers in them. I tromp out of the house, crunching snow under my boots and fighting back the flashbacks with every step.

I can't be out in the snow for too long, because I'm more susceptible to frostbite now that I've had it once. It's not an experience I want to have twice, so I typically try to stay warm inside my wrappings for a few minutes at a time, then go inside again.

I walk through the quiet town; most everyone is at work or in school. Iry got to take the day off to see me go on the train. I walk right through, straight to the iron fence surrounding the cemetery on the far side of town. I push the gate open and walk through, closing it behind me with a clang.

Even in this cold weather there are fresh graves. I know a few people who've died in the past few weeks; a couple of old age, some of disease, a factory accident like my father had. Someone was executed for something; I'm not even sure what it was. I walk past them all, straight to the grave with the wreath of red roses on it.

"Hey, Fletcher. I'm about to go on the Victory Tour, and I just want to say I wish you were going with me," I say to the cold stone tombstone. Most of the other graves have simple wooden crosses, but the Capitol provides marble ones for the dead tributes. Fletcher's headstone says only his name, his age, and what he was.

_Fletcher Wellrock_

_Age 17_

_Tribute, Son, Friend._

"I miss you, and I wish things could have been different," I continue, hugging my arms to myself to conserve heat. The snow falls around me, and I want to run inside, but I force myself to stay a little longer.

"I won't be back for a few weeks, so don't miss me too much. I don't know if you can even hear me, but take care of yourself. I'll tour the districts for both of us, okay?" I blow a kiss to the headstone. "Love you," I whisper, then turn around to trudge back to Victor's Village. The cold is biting through my clothes and it's getting harder to keep the flashbacks away. The snow and cold remind me of the arena, of the blizzard at the very end. I can't handle it for long.

I've been finding myself here at the cemetery more often, ever since I found out from Fletcher's mother where his grave was. She's a nice lady, but torn apart by grief. I didn't know her before the Games, but I visited her a month after I got back and we both cried in her kitchen. Now I visit Fletcher's grave on the regular, often stopping in to say a quick hello to my mother and father. I miss them both so much too.

I've lost too many people.

"There she is!" someone calls from up ahead, and I've barely entered into Victor's Village. When I get back to my house, my prep team is already there. Sappho is holding a makeup tote, but the other two, Tiffany and Lem, rush towards me in all their Capitol finery, genuinely happy to see me.

"Oh, you're looking well, Terra!" Tiffany gushes.

"How are your legs doing?" Lem asks.

"Much better. I can get around much better now," I say, then allow myself to be led inside my own house. Iry is delighted at meeting my team from the Capitol. And in return, my prep team adores my sister.

"Damius, can we give her little sister a makeover too?" Sappho pleads in her high-pitched accent.

"If you must, and if she wants to," Damius says. Sappho squeals and takes an eager Iry by the hand, leading her away with her makeup tote. Damius comes over and hugs me. "Good to see you again, Terra. How are you doing?"

"Better, I think," I say. I am better, physically if not mentally. Deecey and I are back to normal now, with only some awkward moments. We don't ever mention the Hunger Games; we steer clear of that topic. I won't talk with anyone about the Hunger Games if I can help it, not even Shuttle or Woven. And I notice that neither of them talks about it either.

"Lem, Tiffany, I think Sappho is gone. Let's get Terra up and running so everyone in the districts thinks she's gorgeous," Damius says. "Not that you're not already," he adds.

To my great disappointment, the front door opens and in steps Postumius, still all in orange, looking around in wonder at the house. "Ah, so this is where you live! Such a small house," are the first words out of my idiotic escort's mouth.

"Good to see you too, Postumius," I say before I'm whisked away upstairs to begin my transformation.

Several hours later, I've been scrubbed, waxed, shampooed, and completely made over. I look Capitol pretty now, with my makeup on and my hair tamed. Damius walks into my room holding a pair of pants and a blue shirt.

"No dress today?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"That will come later. We want you to stay warm while we get you to the train." The shirt is silky and a deep blue that shimmers; the pants are black and semi loose, making the outfit really comfortable to move in.

"Thank you," I say to Damius. He smiles and nods. Iry bursts in then with a full face of makeup as well, and simply glowing with happiness.

"Look what Sappho did for me!" she says, bouncing up and down.

"You look beautiful!" I say, kissing her forehead. I personally think it's overkill for a nine year old, but she's happy so I'll let it go.

"Oh, and Deecey is here!" Iry says.

"Where is she?" I ask.

"Downstairs in the living room. She's talking to Sappho and a guy."

I'm steadier on the stairs now, but I still need to hold the railing to get down them. My team comes along behind me with their totes of stuff; they'll be coming along on the tour with me, which I don't really mind. It's Postumius coming that I mind.

And I really mind seeing all the childless parents who mourn their fallen tributes. I don't want to do that, don't want to give the speeches and look into their eyes. But I'm a victor and I'm expected to do these things.

Deecey's standing in the living room chatting away with Sappho, and next to them is a middle-aged man with dark hair and deep-set eyes. That will be Woof, the victor that I don't know as well. He didn't come to the Capitol after I was reaped, because I think he was sick or something. All I know about him is that he won almost twenty years ago and he lives three doors down from me.

"Hello, hello!" I say, giving Deecey a hug.

"Don't you look pretty," she says, returning it.

"I'd rather not go on this trip, if you know what I mean," I say, and she nods. "Thanks for being so nice to Iry," I say then, directed to Sappho.

"My pleasure! She's such a sweetheart!" she gushes. Then I turn to the man who's standing awkwardly in our midst.

"Woof, isn't it?" I say. He nods shortly.

"Our newest victor, Terra Coppersmith. Pleasure to make your acquaintance," he says, shaking my hand. I notice that he's missing a finger himself, the left pinky one. He notices me looking.

"I suppose we match, don't we?" he says with a wry smile, holding up his left hand. He's District 8's second victor, winning only a few years after Woven did.

"Are you coming along?" I ask, but he shakes his head.

"No, I avoid the Capitol when I can. I'll be there soon enough for the Games, and I see no reason to go sooner. Excuse me," he says and wanders off in search of someone else to talk to.

"He's bloody polite, isn't he?" Deecey says, watching him go.

"Keeps to himself, I've noticed. He's never once come over like Shuttle and Woven do," I say.

"The cameras are here!" Postumius cries, rushing into the room. "It's showtime!"

"That's the most escorting I've ever seen him do," I mutter to Deecey, and she laughs.

"What a moron."

"Everyone agrees with you," I say. I give her one last hug, then I join the rest of my team at the front of the house. I'm the happy victor, or so the Capitol believes. I need to give them the show they want. As I head for the door, Damius catches me and helps me put on a grey fur coat, blue mittens, and a decorative scarf.

"Say goodbye! I need a hug!" Iry calls from behind me, so I stall and hang back.

"Be good for Deecey and Mrs. Underfall, okay? You'll see me on the television every night," I say, hugging my little sister.

"Why can't I come with you?"

"Capitol rules, munchkin. Be good, I love you," I say, giving her one last squeeze.

"We're going live!" Postumius shouts.

"We know! Be quiet!" Woven says. I didn't notice her come in, but I'm glad she's here. She's dressed for the cold in Capitol clothing similar to mine.

The front door opens and I step out into the snow, taking a deep breath. I hate the cold, hate the snow.

"Welcome back Panem, to the start of the Victory Tour!" says an overly peppy man in green, holding a camera. I smile and wave. "And hello to Terra Coppersmith, our newest victor!"

"Hello!" I say brightly. The attention turns from me to my entourage, who wave as well as they step out my door. Shuttle gives a bright smile, Woven simply nods, but Woof does neither, giving only a short wave, then looking stern the rest of the time he's on camera. Postumius is bouncing all around, thrilled at being on live television again.

After a bit more back and forth between me and the cameras, they shut them off so I can get into a waiting black car. Shuttle and Woven climb in beside me; the rest of my team gets into a different car that pulls up as we close the doors.

I give a last wave to my family, then the car drives away, taking us to the train station.

The Tour has begun, and I'm already eager for it end.


	61. Letting Go

** Terra Coppersmith **

I get panicky being on the train again, watching the trees and bushes go by. I don't mind leaving where we just were, but I hate being away from home. It really makes me realize that nothing will ever be normal again.

I woke up screaming last night, almost falling off the bed in the process. I was having this horrible nightmare about the girl from 4 and Fletcher, and me killing both of them before their corpses turned into lions and attacked me instead. Shuttle had to come calm me down, which took a long time.

Almost two days ago we left District 8, and now we're just coming from District 12. What a miserable little district it is! Grey with coal dust, and all the people who live there look hopeless and downtrodden. The mayor was friendly enough, but it didn't make up for the dead tributes' families, standing underneath pictures of their children.

The boy had made it to the end before being killed by the Careers, but the girl had been killed in the bloodbath at the beginning of the Games. I don't remember much about her, only that she was very quiet. Her mother had tears pouring down her cheeks the whole time I was giving my pre-written speech. It seemed so insincere, and not enough in exchange for the tributes' lives.

After the speech, the mayor gave me a small tour around the business part of District 12. This was the first time I'd set foot in a district that wasn't my own, and I'm really starting to appreciate District 8. My home is smoggy and dirty as well, but we have hope in our eyes. Everyone I saw in 12 had dead eyes and blackened faces, from the coal they mine. I was happy to leave after the mandatory supper.

Now it's early morning and I can't sleep again. Too many memories have been packed into this train, and I just want to get off and go home. Leaning my head against the window, I close my eyes and try to clear my head.

Finally, I've had enough of being in the train, so I go to the very back where there's a little outdoor balcony area. There're some benches out there, and I sit down to watch the tracks zoom away behind us. The air is warm and balmy, a far cry from the winter scenery I've come from in Districts 8 and 12. District 11 must be very far to the south to be this warm in winter.

"Welcome to District 11," Woven says behind me, and I jump.

"How'd you know I was out here?" I ask.

"You don't have the quietest gait," she says, coming to sit down beside me.

"Sorry if I woke you."

"I don't sleep much anyway. Don't worry about it." She looks around at the unfamiliar trees. "It's been a few years since I've been here."

"You came when Shuttle won, right?" I ask.

"Five years," she agrees.

"I don't want to be here. I killed the boy," I say. I've been seeing his face all night, in-between the nightmares. I killed the District 11 boy for the bow and arrows that I barely even used in the arena.

"It was hard for me to face the families of the tributes I killed too," Woven says. "Just get through today and it will be better. You'll have a few days before you see anyone else you killed."

"What happened to the girl? I forget," I say.

"District 5 girl got her. Wasn't pretty," Woven says. "We should go eat breakfast; your stylists will want to get their hands on you soon."

I grab Woven's arm before she has a chance to stand up. "How did you do it? How did you get through your tour?" I ask.

"I gritted my teeth and bore it, then went back to bed when I got home. You can do this, Terra."

Several hours later, the train is stopped, and I'm dressed in a light green dress decorated with yellow vines. No wraps are necessary here, but I don't like how I'm dressed at all. The dress comes down just to my knees, showing off my prosthetics to the world. And maybe I should be proud of them, proud that I survived when nobody else did, but I'm not.

"Here's your cards," Postumius says, beaming. He's started to incorporate more reds into his makeup, alongside the orange, and it looks even more frightening than before. "Just read from these and you'll sound perfect!"

"Thanks," I say, turning my back on my escort. Shuttle comes behind me and touches my shoulder gently. She smiles at me, and I try to smile back. I'm nervous, and I feel so guilty for what I did.

All the boy wanted was to live, and I killed him.

The doors open and I'm led out onto the stage. The crowd below has to be only a small portion of District 11's citizens; the district goes on for miles behind them, surrounded by barbed wire topped fences. Peacekeepers stand on all sides, guarding the crowd, and me.

I look down into the faces of the people from District 11. Most of them look like me, with their brown skin and dark eyes. A few with lighter skin stick out here and there, but for the most part the people here resemble many of the people in my own district.

On one side stands the family of the boy, on the other side, the family of the girl. I look directly into the eyes of the boy's mother, and she stares back with hatred. Nothing I say will ever erase that. And I don't blame her for hating me. I hate me too, for what I did.

The girl's family consists of two people I assume are her parents, two children, and another woman holding the shoulders of a younger girl, maybe thirteen. Suddenly I remember what Graine, the girl tribute, had said in her interview, about volunteering for her cousin. This is who the younger girl must be. This is who Graine died for.

"Greetings, District 11. Thank you for welcoming me into your home, and it is a great pleasure for me to be here. I want to thank you for your children, who fought so valiantly and gave their lives for the good of Panem. I apologize for any grief or ill-being that I may have caused you, and instead ask for your forgiveness. I thank you again for the warm welcome, and I thank you for your children, the tributes of Panem. Thank you," I say, then step away from the microphone.

The boy's mother is shaking her head at my request for forgiveness. I look at her in the eye and try to tell her how sorry I am, how I wish that things could have been different. The mayor talks on and on about the Games, but the mother just keeps on looking at me with hatred. Finally, I'm taken back indoors, away from her gaze. But I can feel it through the stone walls, boring into the back of my head.

The mayor, accompanied by Peacekeepers, gives me a tour of the district. I get to walk through the orchards, looking up at the people who are picking. There are Peacekeepers all around, keeping track of each person, each apple that is picked. Up in the tallest branches are children, picking the highest fruit. Some whistle to nearby birds, and the birds answer them.

"We are very proud of our crops," the mayor says, gesturing to the rolling hills full of people farming. I nod, taking it all in. District 11 seems to go on and on forever, with no end.

"It's beautiful," I say. It is, but it also harbors an undercurrent of tension. I can tell nobody is really happy here, and the treatment by the Peacekeepers is even more brutal than in District 8.

At last, the mayor leads me back to his home, where I will be expected to attend a supper. Damius is waiting with an evening gown when I get back to the mayor's house, and he helps me change quickly, adjusting my makeup as well.

"Enjoy yourself, Terra. Enjoy being the victor," he says.

"Easy to say, difficult to do," I say, then I go join the others in the big dining room. Postumius is having a wonderful time, talking with the important people of District 11. I meet the only District 11 victor, Seeder, who is a lovely young woman with short black hair, lighter skin, and golden eyes. She's around Shuttle's age, having won the Games a few years after my mentor's.

"A pleasure to meet you, Terra," she says with a smile and a hug. I like her immediately. She's kind, I can tell, and has retained an air of gentleness, even after her Games. I'm seated by her during supper, and I do enjoy her company.

For everyone else, I stay as quiet as I can, speaking only when spoken to, and smiling at everyone around me. Shuttle and Woven have joined me here, as my mentors, and they help keep the conversation going as Postumius starts to lapse into drunkenness again.

I'm relieved when it's time to say goodbye and get back on the train.

As soon as the train takes off, I rush as quickly as I can to my room and collapse on the floor, sobbing.

_Guilty, Terra! You're guilty, guilty, guilty! You killed the boy, and now you have to live with the fact that he's dead, and his mother hates you for it. And she should! You killed her son!_

"Terra? Terra, are you alright?" Shuttle asks from outside the door, knocking.

"Just leave me alone! Please! Go away!" I say. Shuttle doesn't move from outside the door. "Please!"

After a few minutes she goes, and I'm left alone in my room. I hate myself, hate myself for what I've done, and who I am now. There's no going back to the before. I'm not the Terra Coppersmith I was when I was reaped; I'm a girl with blood on her hands. I've caused the death of three people, and it's tearing me apart inside. This hurts worse than any frostbite or knife wound.

And it's unbearable.

They find me the next morning, still curled up on the floor in my evening dress. My prep team goes through the motions of getting me ready, but I barely notice. The next few days pass like a blur; I say my part from the cards for District 10, see the dead tributes' families, tour the district full of cows and other livestock.

The next day, I see District 9, where the little girl, Catalina, lived. I look into her family's eyes, see the pain and sorrow in them. Her mother cries, her father stands with his arms around his wife. The girl had three sisters, two of which have tears running down their faces. The third looks too grief stricken to cry. The boy, Ornam, has only a father to represent him.

At the supper, I meet the two District 9 victors, Arla and Ripple. Arla is older, and has clearly turned to alcohol to cope. Ripple is a tall man, but seems gentle, and appears genuinely upset over the loss of his tributes.

We bypass District 8, of course, because that's our final stop of the Victory Tour, so we go straight ahead to District 7, a place full of trees. Of course it is, its primary industry is lumber. The boy tribute wasn't very memorable, but the girl, Cedar, was the one with the red curly hair. Her whole family, father, mother, and six siblings, all have that same red hair that is so striking.

District 6 is cold and snowy, two things that I hate. Luckily, I don't get a tour of the place, so I get to stay inside where it's warm after my speech. This is where the sibling tributes came from, Dove and Cabel. Their mother stands under a picture of both of them, pain etched into her face. My pitiful words that were given to me aren't enough, I know. But what else can I say besides I'm sorry for your loss?

At supper I meet four victors, and I'm surprised that District 6 has so many. Lexa is distant and cold, Fabian appears to be an alcoholic, and the other two, Jass and Orna, are completely drugged up and unable to hold a decent conversation.

"They had difficult Games, so they take morphling to forget," Shuttle whispers in my ear after the pair have wandered away. I feel sorry for them, I really do, and I make a vow to never end up like them.

District 5 was the home of Kouza and Alyss, who I feared most in the arena. Yet I pity them now, both of them. Kouza's family cries openly while I make my speech, and there is nobody standing for Alyss. How can she have no family to represent her? My heart aches unexpectedly for the girl from 5.

Out my window now I can see the ocean approaching, and it's beautiful and terrifying at the same time. I don't want to be in District 4, because that's where Calypso was from. If I hadn't killed her, she would have been the victor; her family is bound to hate me even more than the boy from 11's did.

"Say your speech, and let her go," Woven says, tucking a blue shawl around my shoulders. "You did what you had to do, just like the rest of us."

"I don't even want to think about her," I whisper. Calypso was in my dreams again last night, with her mutilated face and her slashed open throat, which I did; I killed her.

"Let her go after today, Terra. Trust me, it will make it better."

"Have you let the people you killed go, Woven?" I ask. She doesn't answer, instead pushing me towards the door. Postumius hands me the cards I'm expected to read off of, and then I'm swept onstage in front of all the people of District 4.

The first thing I do is make eye contact with Calypso's family, standing underneath her picture. Her parents and a younger brother who looks maybe three or four. I look away from them, to Mica's family; only his parents stand for him. Everyone involved has sorrow filled faces, and guilt tugs at my insides.

"Hello, District 4," I say, stepping up to the microphone. The sea of people below me is silent. "Thank you for having me here, and I also thank you for your tributes, the children of Panem." This is a horrible speech.

I think it's time I went off script.

"I didn't know Mica well, but he seemed kind and gentle when I saw him in training. But I did admire Calypso for what she could do. I'm very sorry for your losses, and I'm sorry I was in the final two with Calypso. I wish there was a way to make things right," I say. "Thank you for having me, District 4."

Calypso's mother looks at me straight in the eyes, and I see none of the hatred that Sorrell's mother in District 11 had. She nods her head slightly, and I know that she's forgiven me, somehow. The knot in my stomach lessens a little, and I smile back at her.

The mayor says a few more things that I don't listen to, then I'm escorted back inside the Justice Building. Woven looks stern.

"What?" I ask in a hushed voice.

"You went off script," she says.

"So?"

"They won't like that, but well done." She allows herself a smile. "You let her go." I nod.

The mayor has come back in, and she's saying, "I'm going to let one of our victors give you a tour of our beautiful district, since she's so eager to do it."

A beautiful middle-aged woman in her mid forties, with grey streaked red hair, steps forward to shake my hand, giving me a warm smile in the process.

"Terra Coppersmith, this is Mags Flanagan; Mags, this is Terra," the mayor says.

"How wonderful to meet you," Mags says, holding my hand in both of hers. There's something about her that makes me trust her immediately. "I'd like to show you District 4, if that's alright with you."

"I would be honored," I say.

"Then let's go," Mags says, and leads me out a side door.


	62. Mags

** Terra Coppersmith **

The ocean is beautiful, with rolling waves and fishing boats throwing nets out. Seagulls fly overhead and swoop up and down with the wind. Somewhere in the distance, someone on a boat is singing, but I can't make out any of the words. Mags and I stand on the beach and take it all in.

"I've always loved living here," she says. "Every few years or so I tour the districts, and some I like, and some I don't as much. But I'm always happy to come home."

"What do you like to do with your time?" I ask. The sea breeze blows my hair in my face and I push it away, tucking it in the hood of my coat.

"Me? I like to swim, and take my boat out for a sail. When the weather's rough, I paint," Mags says. "What about you?"

"I haven't really picked anything yet," I admit. "I've decorated my house and used that as my talent."

"You'll find something that you really love to do, don't worry," Mags says. I smile at her; I really like Mags, more than anyone else I've met on this tour.

"It's been a long time since I was on my own Tour," she continues, looking back out to sea. "My Victory Tour was the first one, you know."

"What year was that?" I ask.

"The Eleventh Hunger Games," she says. Her face is so calm that one would think it never affected her at all. But I notice the tremors in her hands, and I know that it has.

"Long time ago," I comment, and she nods.

"Would you like to go on to see where they bring the fish ashore?" she asks.

"Sure," I say, and we carry on, leaving the waves that wash up on the shore behind.

Out on the docks, I get to watch the fishermen bring in the catches for the day. "Didn't they all have to be listening to my speech?" I murmur to Mags.

"The Capitol still needs daily deliveries," she says. "A few fishermen were allowed to miss your speech."

"It wasn't anything special, anyways," I say.

"Nonsense. You spoke from the heart, and that was good of you. Kai! Good afternoon to you!" she calls, waving to an old man stepping off the fishing boat. You don't see many old people in District 8, because so many people die from the smog poisoning, accidents, or the starvation that's always prevalent. This man, Kai, must be very old, judging by the deep-set wrinkles in his face.

"Hello Maggie, my dear," he says, coming over and clasping Mags' hands in his own.

"You'll recognize our guest; this is Terra, District 8's newest victor," Mags says.

He pauses a moment, then gives a shaky smile. "Of course, I would recognize her anywhere. Pleased to meet you, Terra," the old man says, shaking my hand. "I'm afraid I can't stay to talk; they're waiting for me on the boat. Always lovely to see you, Maggie, and to you as well, Terra."

As the old man walks away, Mags whispers to me, "That's Kai Oceansong. You won't know him, of course, but his daughter was a tribute in the first Hunger Games." We all know that the victor of the first Hunger Games was not from District 4.

"Come with me, there's more to see. I'll take you to the lighthouse, and then we'll have to go back for supper," Mags says. I'm actually enjoying myself, more than I have in any other district. Mags is a superb tour guide, and the conversation flows naturally. She's a remarkable woman to appear to be relatively untouched by her own experiences.

Of course, those experiences were over twenty years ago. Maybe it gets easier with time?

"That's to make sure our boats don't run aground in rough weather or moonless nights," Mags says, pointing up at the red and white striped tower that looks over the ocean on an island of rocks. The scene painted here is beautiful, and I don't really want to leave District 4. I can't help but admire this district for its people and its scenery, and it's such a contrast to my own home.

A little snow starts to fall, and a cold breeze whips across my cheeks, making me stumble backwards. "Terra?" Mags asks. The ocean is fading, getting replaced by something much more sinister.

The wind is strong and the snow is falling so thick that I can't see anything; my hands are frozen and numb, and my feet hurt so much it brings tears to my eyes. And Fletcher is dead, leaving me alone. I have to get to the Cornucopia; I have to get there!

"Terra! Terra, are you alright?" someone is asking, holding my shoulders. I've fallen backwards onto the sandy ground, and I'm pushing her away, fighting to get the tributes away from me, they want to kill me!

"Shh, Terra. It's alright. You're in District 4," Mags says in a soothing voice, and slowly I come to my senses and stop fighting her. It was just a flashback, it's okay; I'm not in the arena. I let my arms drop to my sides, and the ocean comes back into view, the blizzard fading. Then I promptly humiliate myself by bursting into tears.

"Oh dear," Mags says, rubbing my back. She's kneeling next to me on the gritty beach; the lighthouse light keeps going around and around; I focus on it to bring myself back to the present.

"Just a flashback, I'm sorry," I mutter, rubbing my face. I don't care about the makeup; it can all wash away for all I care.

"What caused it?" Mags asks in a low voice.

"Cold. I hate the snow and cold," I whisper, holding my head in my hands.

"Then we must go inside and get you out of the cold," she says decisively, helping me up.

"I don't want them to see me like this," I say. She nods.

"We will go the long way back, don't you worry. I know how you feel," Mags says, patting my face. "Come, we won't speak anymore about it. But they'll be expecting us back at the Justice Building so we can all go for supper."

We don't speak anymore on the way back, but I enjoy her company all the same. I like Mags, I like her a lot.

"Here, come with me. The ocean always helps me when I'm feeling confused," Mags says, leading me down to the beach again when we're almost in the town. "Put your hand in and feel your worries fade away."

The water is cold, and makes my hand hurt, but it's beautiful all the same. So much of what I've seen in District 4 is beautiful.

"You're lucky to live here," I say, pulling my hand out of the water and drying it on my shirt.

"I am," Mags agrees. "I'm glad I could show you my home while you were here."

I didn't realize how late it was getting until the water starts to turn pink from the sunset forming. The fishermen come in and dock their boats as I watch; a long day over with at last. The sailors joke and sing amongst themselves as they unload their final catches for the day.

"They'll be waiting for us, Terra," Mags reminds me, so I leave the beach and follow her into the town.

Back at the Justice Building, Shuttle and Woven whisk me away to meet with Damius. "What happened to your makeup?" Shuttle asks, looking at me closely.

"Nothing. Smudged it a little," I say. "What are we wearing tonight, Damius?"

"First I'm going to fix your makeup, then I'll show you." When he does pull the dress out, I gasp. It's a dark ocean blue that drapes at the neckline, cascading down to my feet. It's absolutely stunning.

"I think it's the best one yet," I say once I have it on, twirling in front of the mirror.

"I was hoping you would like it," Damius says, then gives a little bow before leaving.

"Did you have a nice time with Mags?" Shuttle asks, arranging my hair a little.

"She's lovely," I say.

"It's always a pleasure to work with her during the Games," Shuttle says, smiling.

"They're waiting," Woven says from the doorway. Shuttle gives me a hand up.

"Where's orange boy?" I ask, looking around once we get to the hallway.

"He's been retired for the evening; he had a little too much to drink with the mayor while you were out sightseeing," Woven says, rolling her eyes.

"Shouldn't someone look into his drinking problem?" I say.

"Maybe he'll drink himself to death and solve our problems," Shuttle says sarcastically, then the mayor is there, and I'm escorted in to her house, which is directly connected to the Justice Building. I'm led straight to the dining room, which is enormous, bigger than most of the other mayors' dining rooms.

In attendance to this supper are the mayor, her husband, her teenage daughter who looks like she would rather be anywhere else, Mags, another victor who I don't know, Shuttle, Woven, myself, and several cameramen who have their large cameras trained directly on me.

As I sit down, the mayor clinks her knife against her wineglass. "I'd like to make a toast. To the victor of the 36th Hunger Games!" she says.

"To Terra Coppersmith," everyone else says, raising their glasses. Have you forgotten your own tributes so quickly? I think. This is for the cameras, though. Have to keep it cheery.

Supper is good, but ultimately forgettable. I manage to tune out most of the conversation and just focus on getting through the night without having another flashback. Mags catches my eye every once in a while, and smiles at me. I can't help but smile back at her.

It's late, and most of the guests in attendance have drunk too much when Shuttle stands up. "We hate to leave you, but you know how the train schedules are. We have to be in District 3 by tomorrow," she says.

"Of course, of course," the mayor says, standing up. The cameramen turned off their cameras over an hour ago, and are now imbibing themselves. They're about three glasses deep, and don't even notice when Shuttle, Woven, and I get ready to leave. I haven't touched alcohol at all; I've seen what it does to people, and I don't want to be that distant. No matter how many flashbacks I may have.

Mags gives me a hug goodbye. "I look forward to seeing you in July," she says, patting my face.

"I'll see you then," I say, smiling at her. Then I leave with Shuttle and Woven, back to the train, escorted by Peacekeepers as soon as we leave the Justice Building in a car.

The train starts up as soon as we get on, and soon District 4 is behind us; all I can see are dark shadows. I sit at the window and watch the ocean disappear, as best I can through the black and the trees.

"District 3 tomorrow," Shuttle says, coming to look out the window with me. "How do you feel?"

"Better," I say. "Much better."


	63. Just a Girl

** Terra Coppersmith **

I really don't think much of District 3, with its tall decrepit buildings and stinking factories similar to the ones at home. The people here too are underfed and downtrodden, similar to the people I saw in District 12. I learned in school, long ago, that District 3 was once a wealthy district, but after the Dark Days the standards have fallen.

I give my standard speech from the cards, with no elaborations this time. I didn't know either tribute from 3, both of them very young. The boy's parents stand almost shell-shocked through my speech, while Summer's parents cry openly. From watching the recap of the Games, I know that their daughter didn't meet a kind end, and it hurts me to see them. The little girl was so pretty, too.

I'm given the standard tour by last year's victor, a quiet boy named Beetee. He's about my age, and seems nice from what I hear from him. I remember that he electrocuted a bunch of tributes at once, and that's how he won. Really, we're both unlikely victors.

I don't think much of the dirty and depressing city like district I see, even with Beetee explaining each building's function. After the supper at the mayor's house, I'm happy to leave District 3 behind me.

In District 2, the atmosphere is different. I can tell the people here are different too; better fed, happier as a whole. Of course, 2 is the Capitol's pet, and a Career district.

"They're all bloodthirsty," Shuttle says, looking past me at the crowds. "I see them every year, and they can't wait to get in the arena. It's the old victors, they train the kids and have them volunteer, you know."

"It didn't work out for them this year," Woven says.

"No, it didn't," Shuttle says, and she looks at me with pride.

I can't help but feel guilty for coming home alive, though.

"Let's go!" Postumius says, popping up behind us. Someone gave strict instructions to the assistants on the train to not give him any alcohol, and I'm hoping that he won't drink tonight either. He's an idiot sober, but he's far worse drunk.

The first thing I notice when I get out on stage is how elegant the buildings are in their town square; made of white marble that looks freshly polished. As for the crowd below me, some are crossing their arms and looking up at me with boredom. Others are chatting with each other, not paying me any attention.

"I would like to thank you all for welcoming me so warmly to District 2; it is a beautiful place that is unrivaled anywhere else," I start out, reading surreptitiously from the cards Postumius handed to me right before I came out here. "I would also like to pay my respects for your fallen tributes, who fought so valiantly to bring honor to their district."

I look at the tributes' families. The boy, Cossus, has nobody to stand for him under his picture. The girl, Dexsia, on the other hand, has her whole family representing her; her father, mother, a man who appears to be her brother, and a young woman who holds a baby. The brother looks stern, while the others look grim.

As a Career, they expected their daughter to come home, and instead they have a seventeen-year-old District 8 girl giving a speech on their stage. Me being here was not in the cards.

"You have honored Panem by giving your children, and in turn Panem thanks you for your sacrifices. Thank you, District 2," I finish, reading off the last card and stepping back. My audience applauds, but I doubt they really want to. District 8 is never a popular one with the crowds.

I'm pulled back inside after the mayor says his part. "Oh, splendid! Wonderful job!" Postumius says, beside himself. "We must have a drink to celebrate!"

"If anyone gives him a drink, I'll kill them on the spot, is that understood?" Woven says, uncharacteristically savage. Everyone freezes, then the assistants nod and scurry off somewhere else. Postumius scowls at Woven, but says nothing.

"Our escorts have always been competent," a man says, coming in. He has shaggy blonde hair that comes to his shoulders and an unshaved face. From the looks of him, he's never stopped training.

"We can't all be that lucky, Aulus," Shuttle says.

"Go off, you idiot," Woven says, waving Postumius away. He opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it, storming away.

"Good riddance to him. Terra, this is Aulus Buteo; Aulus, this is my victor," Shuttle says, gently giving me a push forward.

"You weren't one I had pegged to win, I'll tell you that," Aulus says, looking me up and down.

"Don't be rude, Aulus," says a tall woman with dark hair coming in behind him. She sticks her hand out to me and says, "You can call me Victoria; I won four years ago."

"I remember watching you," I say, shaking her hand.

"Memorable, am I?" she says, and laughs a little.

I smile at her; Victoria is quite memorable; she's one of the tallest victors I've met on this tour. Both she and Aulus failed to bring a victor home this year, and I can tell that it has affected Aulus more than Victoria. While she smiles and laughs, he stays solemn.

I don't think too much of District 2 either, while the two victors give me a short tour around. Generally, the people look happier here, but I don't like them. There's something about the Career districts that make me hate them, with District 4 mostly excluded. I can't see Mags drilling her tributes and making them volunteer for death.

"They're hard to stomach there, with that built in warrior mindset," Shuttle says after we're on the train and leaving District 2. "All Aulus would talk about in the Capitol was how he had trained his tribute, Dexsia, since she was eight, and that she was sure to win. He was devastated when she died."

I don't say anything to that. In the dark glass of the window I see myself dimly reflected back; me, Terra Coppersmith, the victor. By all rights I should never have been the victor; it was only by chance that I killed Calypso. I hid most of the Games, and only appeared at the last. As Aulus said, I was not the most obvious candidate for victor.

"Last district tomorrow, and then the Capitol, and then we can go home," Shuttle says.

"Yeah."

"District 1 is nice," she says.

"I think I'll go to bed," I say, then leave my mentor at the window.

My room is the same one that I had when I first was reaped, and it's bittersweet. It's familiar surroundings, but the room also reminds me of before, before the Games happened. I miss those days.

I take off my prosthetics, laying them beside me on the bed. I never look at my legs when the prosthetics are off; it hurts too much to see. I climb under the covers and pull them over my head, blocking everything out. And, for once, I fall asleep.

"Up, up, up! We're nearly there!" Tiffany says, pulling the covers off of me. I blink in the sunlight that's streaming through the windows. I had no dreams, a rare occurrence.

My prep team pulls me out of bed and begins putting my makeup on immediately. Woven wanders in after a few minutes and hands me a bagel from the breakfast table.

"You'll need your strength for the last day," she says.

"Don't smudge it!" Lem cries, holding a brush that's been dipped in some sort of powder.

"Calm down, I won't," I say, taking a bite of the bagel. Outside the window there are very few trees now, and in the distance there's a mountain range covered in snow. It's pretty here, more so than in any of the more industrial districts, my own included.

"District 1 is the most beautiful district!" Postumius says, waltzing in with a drink in hand.

"It's first thing in the morning, Postumius; where did you get that drink?" I ask.

"They make all the luxury items for the Capitol, and they're my favorite!" he continues, ignoring my question.

"Can you get him out of here?" I ask Woven.

"Let's go, go get drunk somewhere else, we don't want you here," she says, pushing the escort out the door and shutting it in his face.

"Of all the nerve!" he says on the other side of the door, then wanders away to accost someone else.

"Is he coming back with us to District 8?" I ask, looking at Woven. Lem lets out a sound of annoyance as he misses my cheek with his blush.

"Will you sit still?" he says in his high-pitched accent.

"He'll get shipped off right after the Tour concludes," Woven says. "Then, hopefully, he'll get reassigned somewhere else next year."

"If we're that lucky," I say, then allow my prep team to finish their makeup.

A half hour later, I'm standing at the door with Shuttle by my side. "Where's our esteemed escort?" I ask. I'm wearing a gold dress with a shawl of white fur around my shoulders; appropriate for the cold weather that I'm about to go out in.

"Somewhere else with a drink in hand no doubt. Here's your cards; I got them away from Postumius this morning," she says.

"Hello, hello, Miss Coppersmith," a man in a suit says, coming over and shaking my hand. He's a rather short and round man, but appears very friendly. "You can call me Royal; Royal Shortwith. I'm District 1's mayor, and it is a delight to meet you."

"Thank you, I'm happy to be here," I lie, shaking his hand then stepping back.

"Are we ready, then?" Royal asks, and I nod. The Peacekeepers that are guarding me open the doors to the stage, and I step out in front of the crowd. These people look very much like the ones in District 2; well fed and relatively happy.

The families of the tributes aren't happy, of course; for Velvet there is an older couple and a boy a little younger than me. The father is familiar, and I realize why; I've seen him on television my whole life, on and off. He's Garnet Dusksand, the victor of the 12th Hunger Games. I do the math quickly in my head, trying to remember who won what years. If I'm right, he would have won in between Mags from 4 and Aulus from 2. Career districts.

On the other side is Treasure's family. I don't have an attachment to either tribute, and I try to keep my feelings neutral as I speak. I pretend that I didn't know them, that it's just a Hunger Games I've seen on the television, not concerning me at all. If I pretend anything otherwise, I think I might break.

My speech is simple, like the others I've given on this tour. I hold myself together until the very end, and that's when I remember how I'm connected to Velvet, the tall brutish boy whose father was a victor. Velvet killed Fletcher. I choke on my words as I realize this, garnering a confused look from Royal. I try to gather myself together, to make a proper exit off the stage.

Garnet Dusksand looks directly at me, and he looks so much like his son. His son who drove a knife between Fletcher's ribs, Fletcher who is now cold and buried in the District 8 cemetery with only a simple headstone to remember him by.

_"Get up the mountain. I'll hold them off. Only one of us can win this thing, and I want it to be you." The snow falls harder and harder around me and Fletcher, and I'm looking into his dark brown eyes, knowing he's serious about me running. I don't want to run, don't want to leave him!_

_"Go. Hide. And win, Terra. Win for me. Okay?" They're going to kill him, the Careers are going to kill him, but I'm too much of a coward to stay and fight beside Fletcher, so I run, I run away and I'm climbing up the mountain when I hear the cannon shot. He's dead, they've killed him, and I'm alone, alone in the wind and the snow, and…_

I'm somewhat aware of being carried backwards; I scream and thrash, kicking out and meeting flesh. My captor groans but doesn't let me go. I scream louder, fighting with all my strength; then I'm dropped on soft ground. A loud slam makes me jump; it has to be a cannon. Somebody's dead, which means there's a tribute out hunting me now. Where's my bow? Where's my bow?

"Terra!" Somebody grabs my shoulders and shakes me hard, clearing my head a little. Slowly, I realize that I'm not in the arena, that there is no blizzard, no captor. Instead, I'm sitting on the carpet just inside the doors leading to the stage.

"What's going on?" I ask in a low voice. My gold dress has a rip in it, probably caused by being manhandled by somebody. Who picked me up?

Shuttle comes into view, forehead creased with worry. "What happened out there?" she asks.

"I don't know. What's going on?" I ask. My head's pounding and my vision is still a little fuzzy, threatening to throw me back into the arena in my head.

"You got to the end of your speech and you flipped out, that's what you did," says Woven, standing a few feet away.

"I- I'm sorry," I stutter, looking around the room. "What happened?"

"This fine gentleman," Shuttle says, gesturing to a nearby Peacekeeper who's trying to stem a stream of blood from his nose, "Picked you up and brought you in here, screaming your head off. Are you alright?"

I know now what happened, and I bury my face in my hands for what feels like the thousandth time. Letting out a sob I say, "It was the boy, the boy from here; he killed Fletcher."

"Shh, shh Terra. It's okay," Shuttle says, rubbing my back.

"I don't know what the Capitol is going to think about her getting carried away," Woven says.

"She's not the first one to have to leave the stage early," Shuttle says. "Don't forget Orna, when she started seeing those snakes in District 8."

"Yes, but that's Orna," Woven says. "Terra is-"

"Terra's not different, Woven. She's just a girl," Shuttle says, with iron in her voice.

"What's wrong with her?" a man says coming in; it's Garnet Dusksand. My breath catches when I see him.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Garnet," Shuttle says tightly. Coming after Garnet is a beautiful older woman with light blonde hair curled over her shoulder. I know her; she's the most famous victor in Panem.

"Is she alright?" she asks.

"I'm fine," I say, getting up to face the two victors.

"What was with your little scene on the stage there? Feeling guilty, girly?" Garnet asks, crossing his arms.

"I never even saw your tributes in the arena," I say.

"My boy got yours before he was killed, is that what it is? Still mourning your boyfriend?"

"Garnet, leave her alone," the lady victor says, placing her hand on his chest to hold him back. "Take a walk."

"You always have a soft spot for the girls," Garnet says, but he does leave. I'm not confused anymore, I'm angry, and I want to launch myself at him. I wouldn't feel any guilt over ripping him apart.

"Don't mind him; he's always been an idiot," the lady says, turning to me. "He's been a bit shaken up over losing his son, so please excuse him. He's not the best representative for our district. I'm Silver Bellcreek, by the way."

"I know you; I've seen you on television," I say. Everyone in Panem knows her as the victor of the first Hunger Games. Her eyes glaze over for a second, then she smiles at me, taking my hand and shaking it.

"I'd expect most people have at this point," she says. "Welcome to the victor's circle."

"Good to see you, Silver," Shuttle says, giving her a hug. I notice that the Peacekeeper that I hit has disappeared, leaving only a few drops of blood on the carpet. I'm sorry for attacking you, I think.

"Truly, I wasn't expecting to see you here this year. She did well," Silver says.

"She did," Shuttle agrees.

"Long time no see, Woven. How have you been keeping?" Silver asks next, shaking Woven's hand.

"Well enough I suppose. Worried about her," Woven says, nodding to me. I feel very awkward standing here in my ripped dress, running my remaining fingers over my missing ones.

Silver looks me up and down. "I don't think they'll go after her, but don't leave her alone in the Capitol, Shuttle. Especially not at the supper. Do you hear me?" Her eyes become wide and glassy. "Don't leave her alone."

"We know exactly what happens at those suppers, Silver," Shuttle says, and a look passes between them. I don't know what happens at the Capitol supper, but whatever it is it's not good.

"Good. Keep this one safe," Silver says.

"There, there, Silver. We'll look after her. Now, I don't think a tour is the best idea; keep her out of the cameras until supper," Woven says.

"What on earth happened?" Royal asks, coming back in through the doors I was just carried through. "The girl made me look like a fool in front of Panem."

"I'm sure you've seen worse, Royal," Silver says. "We're not doing the tour, by the way."

"That throws the whole schedule off," the mayor says, taking a clipboard from a girl standing nearby.

"No it doesn't; we'll still get to supper on time," Woven says in an annoyed voice. I've caused all this fuss, and I feel ashamed of myself for reacting like I did onstage. Not that I had a choice, but still.

"But-"

"Don't worry about it; I'll handle it," Silver says. With a scowl, the mayor wanders off, leaving us alone in the Justice Building.

"Just take her back to the train; I'll call for the car if you like," Silver says.

"Might be the best idea. Get her changed for tonight," Woven says, looking at Shuttle. Shuttle nods.

"I'll see you all tonight, then," Silver says, going off to call our car.

"You alright now?" Shuttle asks, holding my arm. I nod. "Right then, let's go back to the train."


	64. Cracks

** Terra Coppersmith **

I sit on my bed back in my room on the train, looking out the window at District 1. I have no desire to go watch the recap of my speech and see me go into a flashback onstage. Am I never going to have a normal life after this? _Have Shuttle or Woven? Have any of the other victors gone back to a normal life after they won?_

I think back on all the victors I've met on this Tour, and how they've all coped with the aftermath of their individual Games; drinking, drug addiction, even in training the next generation of tributes. I see their dead eyes and tremors in their hands, the glazed over faces when they think nobody's looking. They can pretend all they want, but the Games have never gone away for them.

Am I going to end up like them? Like Orna who saw imaginary snakes onstage and now has turned to morphling to get by? How am I any different than any other victor? The thought of vanishing within myself to keep the memories at bay is terrifying. I can't disappear, not with Iry. I have Iry to look after, which means I can't allow myself to disappear.

"Terra? Can I come in?" Shuttle's knocking at the door.

"Yes," I say, and the door slides open.

"Are you alright?" she asks, coming to sit beside me. I don't look at her, choosing to keep staring out the window instead.

"I'm fine."

"If this is about Garnet, just ignore him-"

"It's about everything, Shuttle. I don't really want to talk about it."

"Don't close yourself off, Terra; it's the worst thing you can do," Shuttle says, and I jump up.

"Close myself off? Me? I don't want to talk about my Games for the same reason you don't! I want to forget they ever happened, and it's bloody impossible while being on this tour. I'm reminded every second of what happened in that arena, and I hate it! I hate it, Shuttle! Three people are dead because of me, and I've had to look their parents in the eye and pretend that I didn't care. Fletcher's dead because of me, and it's all my fault!" I scream, running my hands through my hair like a madwoman.

"You want me to talk about how I feel, you want me to open up about my Games, how about you do it first, hmm? You don't like to say a word about yours, just vague hints here and there. If you want to talk, fine! But don't make me do it. Not after Fletcher."

"Do you think I didn't want Fletcher to come home? Do you really think I wanted him dead either?" Shuttle says, her temper flaring. "I chose you, Terra; you were my tribute, and it was my job to get you out alive. As much as I wanted to keep Fletcher alive too, he had to die to keep you alive! I was your mentor, that was my job!"

"Everyone knows I won by chance; Calypso should have been the victor! I didn't mean to kill her; I thought I would die first!"

"Nobody is a victor by chance, Terra. We all had to do whatever it took to get out of our arenas."

"I shouldn't have run! I left Fletcher to die!" I say.

"Stop going on about that! You would be dead too if you stayed, and he was enough of a fool that he didn't fight back against the Careers," Shuttle says, jumping up off the bed.

"Fletcher was no fool! You told me before how he died an honorable death. And why are you telling me to stop going on about the Games when you want me to open up? Think about your logic!" I yell at my mentor.

"You are not the only one who's been damaged, Terra. Think about it! Do you really want to know what happened in my arena? In Woven's? I know you've seen them, but the Games all just blend together for those who weren't in them. I've told you how I killed my ally when it was just the two of us. Do you really want to know what happened?"

I don't say anything, just glare at Shuttle. She looks fierce, and I can see her now as a victor, as someone who has killed and is capable of killing.

"You don't want to know about these things. You don't want to know what it was like for me, just like I don't want to know what your Games were like to you. So go ahead and forget them, Terra. Good luck with that. They're never going to go away," she says, then turns and walks out of my room.

I pick up a nearby vase and throw it at the closed door; it smashes into thousands of pieces, water from the now broken roses pooling on the floor. "I hate you!" I scream, then throw myself on the bed like a child.

I cover my head with a pillow and scream into the covers for a minute, until I see black spots on the insides of my eyelids. I throw myself off the bed, landing wrong on my feet and falling over. I slam my hand into the ground, then cry out with the pain and fury of it all.

Scrambling to my feet, I cross to the door with a ferocity I didn't know was in me. Throwing the door open, I march down the hall, grabbing my fur shawl from a hanger on the way.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Shuttle asks, sitting on a couch with a glass in hand. Her face is bright pink, like she's been holding her breath. Woven is sitting next to her and looking back and forth between me and Shuttle.

"Out," I say.

"What do you mean, out? Terra, you can't leave the train without one of us or an escort," Woven says.

"Try to stop me." I press a button on the side of the door and it slides open. Before Woven or Shuttle can stop me, I've dropped into the snow and I'm walking away as quickly as I can without running.

I don't get very far, though. A tall Peacekeeper stops me in my tracks, saying, "Halt. Where are you going?"

"I've decided to have my tour after all," I say. "I need to find Silver Bellcreek, the victor."

"You must go back to the train, miss," the Peacekeeper says, then pulls me back to the train where Woven is standing confused in the doorway.

"Thank you, we'll take her from here," she says, pulling me up into the train. As the door shuts she turns on me too.

"What were you thinking, leaving like that?"

"I'm not a prisoner, Woven," I say.

"Of course you are! We're all prisoners! Don't you get that, Terra? Every single person on this train is somewhat of a prisoner, and you are not excluded from that. Shuttle's upset and won't tell me what happened, you're trying to run away. Everyone, just sit down and stop fighting for a minute."

I open my mouth to argue, then shut it again. "Fine," I mutter.

"You are not acting like yourself right now, Terra. Go sit down or something until it's suppertime," Woven continues. With that, I walk straight back into my room and close the door behind me.

As my anger cools, I realize that I have probably behaved terribly today, and I regret the words I said to Shuttle. It's just- everything. Everything that's going on, and everything that's happened since July. I want to go home.

Damius comes and gets me ready for supper without the others of my prep team. "I thought you might like to have an evening off from chatter," he says.

"Thanks."

He doesn't react much to my ripped dress, which I'm grateful for, and helps me put on the silvery evening dress he's brought instead.

"Go and have fun tonight," Damius says. "This is your last district."

"I'll try," I say, then I'm escorted out of my room by Postumius and put into a car alongside Shuttle and Woven. Shuttle ignores me, choosing to stare straight ahead instead.

"I'm sorry," I say into the increasing tension.

"Alright," Shuttle says, and leaves it at that. After our fight today, I sense a shift in my usually gentle and even-tempered mentor. I can peer through her cracks and see the tribute in her, the tribute who fought and killed and became who she is now, the victor.

It frightens me, too, that I could have changed that much. I'm certainly not the same Terra as before; will I turn into a Shuttle, whose true feelings are buried and only emerge when everything is too much, seeping through the cracks like hot lava?

There's so much Shuttle hasn't told me, and I'm not sure I want to know what she's keeping inside.

Royal pretends nothing happened earlier, shaking my hand like he's never met me before when he greets us. "Come, you'll love the supper we have prepared," he says.

"I'm sure I will," I say, getting back into my formal speech for the cameras. I have to at least try to recover after earlier. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Shuttle putting on her own cheerful mask, with a smile on her face and elegant manners. I notice her eyes, though, and see how blank they appear tonight.

Woven on the other hand, is steady at my side, with her dark blue eyes that look at everything critically. It occurs to me that she's more stable because she won her Games over twenty years ago, and Shuttle won hers only five years ago.

Maybe this all settles down in time, and Shuttle and I haven't had enough time yet. She's not that much older than me, after all.

Silver Bellcreek greets us as soon as we walk through the dining room door. Garnet holds back, a scowl on his face. The two Capitol men push their cameras closer to my face, and I smile at them like I'm supposed to. All in all, the supper goes by without anything happening, with everyone present cordial to each other, even Postumius.

At the end of the evening, Silver says her goodbyes to me.

"I'll see you in July, no doubt. Good luck, Terra."

"Thank you," I say, then I'm led out of the dining room, into the car and back onto the train.

And we take off for the Capitol.


	65. Deception

** Terra Coppersmith **

"There, you look beautiful!" Sappho says, stepping back to admire her work.

"Nobody will be able to keep their hands off of you," Lem says, clasping his hands together in delight.

"They'd better be able to," Shuttle says, pushing through my prep team. "You do look beautiful, Terra."

"Thank you," I say. Shuttle and I are currently in a sort of truce, and neither of us has screamed at each other today. Woven acts like she's walking on eggshells around us, and in a way she's not wrong to do it.

"When are we leaving?" I ask, looking to an unusually sober Postumius who's standing by the door. As always, he's wearing an orange suit, which is about two inches too short on the pant legs, and he's added a bright purple bow tie on the top. Instead of curls, he's slicked his hair back, and the whole thing is just unappealing. He must choose his own clothes, because no self-respecting stylist would put him in that.

"Right away!" he says brightly. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, twisting and turning to see all of my finery. The floor length silver dress has a small train pooling behind me; the fabric sparkles in the light. Damius gave me a diamond necklace, with earrings to match, and a fur shrug to go around my shoulders. My hair is piled up on my head, and I really do look sensational.

"Then let's go," I say, and I walk out after Postumius, with Shuttle by my side. She's also dressed beautifully, as is Woven. Woven looks quite uncomfortable in a dress however.

We're all quiet in the car, which is a nicer one than we've had in the districts. We round the corner, and there's the President's Mansion, so large and lit up it takes my breath away. Oddly dressed people go up the marble steps in droves.

As the car stops, the previous weeks melt away, all my worries and insecurities and flashbacks just disappear. Tonight I can be Terra Coppersmith, the victor; beautiful, witty, and unforgettable.

"You are not to leave my side tonight, do you hear?" Shuttle mutters in my ear.

"What on earth happens at these things that made you and Silver so worried?" I ask.

"There's always wealthy men who will want to take advantage of you. I don't intend to let them get the chance. So stay by me, alright?"

"Alright," I say. An attendant in a black suit, which fits much better than Postumius's, opens the door; Shuttle slides out first, then the attendant gives me a white gloved hand. I take a second, balancing myself correctly, making sure my skirt falls properly, and then I'm following Shuttle up the marble steps, with Woven close behind.

It's mayhem as soon as we get in the door. It seems like every Capitol citizen must be here, talking, eating, dancing, and now pressing forward to get a look at me, their latest toy. Some wear beetle like shells of equipment and press cameras into my face. I do my best to smile and look cheerful, even though everything is suddenly overwhelming.

"Terra! How do you feel tonight?"

"How do you like the Capitol?"

"Are you going to be a mentor in the next Hunger Games?"

"Your dress is stunning! Your stylist is a brilliant man!"

"What's your talent?"

The questions bombard me from all directions, and in response to them I simply laugh and wave. Woven pushes me surreptitiously from behind, making me take tiny steps further into the mansion. The crowd backs up, then presses back in, closer and closer.

One woman has pink horns implanted in her forehead, another has vines and flowers looping up her arm, like the little girl from 9 had at her interview. I can tell many of them have been drinking, what with their empty cups and loud voices, too friendly to just be Capitol manners.

Shuttle smiles a fake, toothy smile and grips my arm tightly. "I'm afraid we can't just stand here by the door; Terra simply must try the food!" she says. Some of the Capitol guests back away, but most press even farther in, overlarge eyes looking me up and down.

"Come, let's give the lady space," says a man approaching us in a dark blue suit, holding a blue crystal glass. I can feel Shuttle tense next to me, and I look back and forth between the man and my mentor.

The guests peel away after he speaks, their attention turning to the banquet tables, conversation amongst themselves, and dancing. Even the photographers back away slightly, but keep their cameras on me.

"Miss Caries, what a pleasure to see you again so soon," the man says, kissing her hand. Shuttle stays stiff next to me, barely acknowledging the man in front of us. Woven has stepped a distance away, but continues to watch with a hawk like gaze.

"And this must be our newest victor," the man says, taking my hand next. I notice he lets it go far quicker than Shuttle's, his eyes glancing down at the space where my fourth finger used to be. "Terra Coppersmith, what a surprise to see you in the Capitol."

My voice is stronger than I feel when I say, "Not a surprise to me at all, sir; everything went just as planned."

"And I suppose losing your sweetheart was part of the plan as well?" He raises an eyebrow.

"He wasn't my sweetheart, just a temporary dalliance," I say, trying not to choke on my words.

"And how many dalliances have you had?"

"A girl never tells, sir. But he was my last, I'm afraid." Shuttle hasn't relaxed next to me yet, and her hand has an iron grip on my arm. Something is wrong about this man, and so I feel better about lying to him.

"Forgive me for not introducing myself; I am Pluto Smallbee, Head Gamemaker. Before I got my position, I sponsored your mentor here," he says, nodding to Shuttle. She puts a fake smile on her face. "I'm afraid that Gamemakers cannot sponsor, or I might have helped you out as well." Pluto tips my chin up with a rough hand. "Pity," he says, then walks away.

"The devil," Shuttle mutters.

"He's gone now, there, there Shuttle," Woven says, coming and putting her arm around Shuttle, who finally relaxes.

"What did he do?" I ask, watching him walk away into the crowd and disappear. "Besides try to kill us all."

"Hopefully nothing you'll ever have to worry about," Woven says. "I have to talk to some friends of my own; Shuttle, why don't you take Terra over to the banquet tables."

The food here is divine, and there is so much of it. What happens after the feast, when there's bound to be leftovers? Do they just throw it away? I think of back home where hardly anyone gets enough to eat, and the thought of so much waste is horrifying to me.

Shuttle leans into my ear as I take a bite of chicken, whispering about which officials to steer clear of, and others who are alright to talk to.

"See that man over there?" she says, pointing to a frail looking man who walks slightly stooped over, but appears to have had so many surgeries and alterations that he looks no more than fifty. "He's really in his nineties, and is one of the worst men in this room. Stay away from him."

"Who is he?" I ask, my mouth full.

"Augustus Thorneworth. He's taken advantage of more than a few tributes over the years."

I look around at the sea of glittering jewels and outlandish costumes, and after a while I stop looking at the clothes and more at the people who wear them. How old are they all? Most look quite young, but I can't tell whether they are truly young or have been altered to look that way.

"Try this, it's wonderful," Shuttle says, passing a small bowl of soup to me. It's blue, dotted with gold specks. When I put a spoonful into my mouth, I know it's the best thing I've ever tasted.

"Are you keeping your victor all to yourself, Shuttle?" A young man, a real one, who looks to be in his mid-twenties, has come over. Unlike most of the guests, he hasn't altered himself in any significant way; his dark hair is longer on top and streaked with blue, pulled back into a pony tail. He wears a navy-blue suit, which looks good on him, and he has the same sort of smile that Fletcher had.

My god, I miss Fletcher so much.

"Aero!" Shuttle cries, throwing her arms around the man's neck with a genuine smile. The man called Aero hugs her back, giving her a kiss as they break away from each other.

"Shuttle, aren't you going to introduce me to your young friend here?" he asks her, smiling.

"Oh, of course," Shuttle says, uncharacteristically flustered. "Terra, this is Aero Carter; Aero, this is Terra Coppersmith, this year's victor."

"Charmed, I'm sure," Aero says, shaking my hand. "I'm happy for you, Shuttle; I know how much you wanted a victor this year. And I'm happy for you of course, Terra, for making it out alive. Bit touch and go for a little bit there."

"It was," I agree.

"They're looking over here," Shuttle says, gripping Aero's sleeve.

"Then I must go. We can't upset the sponsors, now can we?"

He smiles Fletcher's smile again, and Shuttle smiles back, truly happy. "We'll talk soon," he says, and walks away without a glance back.

Shuttle and I stay quiet for a few minutes after Aero Carter vanishes into the crowd. I finish the bowl of soup in the meantime and try to read the expression on Shuttle's face.

"So who is he?" I finally ask.

"A friend."

"He's one of the good ones, isn't he?"

"Aero is the best," Shuttle says with a sigh. She doesn't say anything more about him, but her face is more relaxed now, genuinely happy.

More guests come up to us, some congratulating me on my win, others come to gawk at this year's victor. I see them stare at my hands and try to get glimpses of my feet that are hidden beneath my dress. Luckily, they don't see much.

The photographers and cameramen press in close again, asking questions and not expecting answers in return. Their painted faces and grotesque alterations make them look like demons behind their flashing cameras.

"How are you coping without Fletcher?"

"What's your favorite thing you've eaten tonight?"

"Have you met anyone new?"

"How do you feel being a victor?"

"What's your favorite color?"

The last one catches me off guard with its ridiculousness and I blurt out, "Yellow!"

The journalists laugh and scribble the word down in their little notebooks. Really, in the Capitol with all its extravagance, they still use notebooks? One would think they would have some sort of electronic pads or something instead of paper. They're keeping District 7 in business.

"Terra, come with me," Shuttle says, keeping her smile on, but her grip is back to being iron on my arm. The photographers attempt to follow us, but the crowd envelops the two of us, hiding us from view.

"They were getting irritating," Shuttle says once we're a distance away, and I laugh.

"More irritating than him?" I ask, pointing to Postumius who's across the room, performing some sort of odd dance while holding a champagne glass.

"No," Shuttle says, and I laugh again. The people swirl around me, blending together into one bizarrely colored wall of feathers and fabric. I pick some people out that I know; I see Damius, being congratulated on his great stylistic achievements this year, my prep team well across the room talking with other brightly colored women; the president flashes by every once in a while, his eye on me. It gives me the shivers to see him, even though we're in his own house. And sometimes I see Aero, which is reassuring even if I don't know him.

After a few hours being here, it gets to be too much, the noise and the crowd and everything. "When can we go?" I whisper to Shuttle. True to her word, she hasn't left me alone all night.

"In a while. The victor can't leave early, unfortunately."

"What time even is it?" I whisper back to her.

"Not sure. Hold on," she says. Shuttle puts her hand out and catches the first person walking by by the arm. "Excuse me, can you tell the victor the time?"

The woman whips out a tiny gold watch and says in the stereotypical high-pitched Capitol accent, "Quarter to midnight. And congratulations on your victory!"

"Thank you," I say, and she melts back into the mob of guests.

"Right, at one we can leave," Shuttle says. "Let's go find Woven."

Shuttle keeps her hand on my arm as we push our way through the guests; I knock one woman wearing pink's arm, spilling champagne all the way down her front. I don't even get the chance to apologize before I lose sight of her again. How many people are even here? The mansion is huge, and it's full, wall to wall.

"There she is," Shuttle says in a low voice that carries even over the chatter all around us. Woven is talking to a very tall woman wearing a purple dress, covered in grapevines. She looks ill, with bright yellow skin, then I realize that she's been dyed to look this way. Capitol fashions are ridiculous.

She looks as though she would have a deep voice, but when she speaks, she sounds just like all the other high-pitched guests that drift around us aimlessly. "Well, if it isn't Shuttle Caries and Terra Coppersmith! I've been looking for you all evening!"

Woven looks tired, the wrinkles in her forehead even more pronounced than usual. "Terra, this is Lissi Hornfell; she's one of the most generous sponsors of the Games, and your sponsor as well," she says.

"I am so glad that my gamble paid off! Everyone is talking about how I sponsored this year's victor, and it's been just sensational!" Lissi says, patting my face. "Go on, Woven, ask her about my proposal." She giggles and takes a sip of her champagne.

"What proposal?" Shuttle and I ask together.

Woven says in an even tone, "Ms. Hornfell would like you to attend a party she's planning on hosting at the beginning of next year's Games."

"Is that all?" I ask, surprised. Shuttle looks grim next to me, and she and Woven exchange looks. What's going on?

"Of course that's all! I would love to have a victor at the party; I collect them, you know," Lissi says, patting her pink hair that I'm certain is a wig.

"Thank you, but Terra won't be able to accept," Shuttle says. "She's going to be staying behind this year in District 8 to watch over her sister. It's a terrible thing that happened you know; they were orphaned so unmercifully, and now there's nobody in the world to look after her small sister, still very much a child. And even though Terra was wanting to come and mentor this year, she knows that she must sacrifice her own happiness for familial duty. You understand, don't you Lissi?"

I'm confused on what's going on, but Lissi seems to eat up the lies that Shuttle just told. In fact, she has tears in her eyes that she's dabbing away with a jewel encrusted hand. "Oh of course I understand; how noble of her to stay behind. Terra, when your sister is grown and you come to the Capitol, my invitation stands."

"Thank you, ma'am," I say, nodding my head to the odd woman in front of me.

"If you'll excuse us, Ms. Hornfell," Woven says, and Shuttle starts to steer me surreptitiously away, towards the door.

"Woven, get the idiot in orange; Terra and I will round up the stylists," Shuttle says quietly to Woven, who nods and disappears into the crowd. I'm still confused, but I know enough to keep quiet.

"You're hurting me," is all I say, and Shuttle releases her grip on me slightly. We manage to push through and reach Damius, who looks surprised to see us so soon.

"Fashion emergency, I'm afraid!" Shuttle says brightly, tapping her right foot against her left ankle.

"Then I am needed," Damius says.

"Going so soon?" asks the man he was speaking to, who wears an absurdly tall hat and has blue teeth.

"I'm afraid so, Carius; duty calls," Damius says and follows Shuttle and me towards the doors.

"What about my prep team?" I ask.

"I'll get them," Damius says, leaving us briefly and coming back with the slightly tipsy threesome.

"We were having so much fun!" Sappho whines, but shuts up at Damius's look. We all manage to get to the front door when everyone around us bursts into laughter. Woven is approaching, dragging a jigging Postumius by his purple bow tie.

"Why are we leaving now?" I whisper. Why won't anyone explain what's going on?

"I'll explain in the car; just smile and act happy," Shuttle whispers back.

"Now, why is the victor going so soon?" Standing directly in front of us is the president, looking mildly amused.

"She's not well, I'm afraid," Shuttle says.

"Oh?" the president says, tilting his head. "She looks well enough to me."

"It's my stomach," I blurt out. We must be lying for a reason, so I'll help carry that forward. "And my head; I've had a headache ever since I arrived in the Capitol. It must be the elevation."

"I see. Don't let me stop you from leaving then," he says, the smile not reaching his eyes. "I do thank you for coming, even for a little while."

"Thank you, sir," I say, holding my stomach for believability. Shuttle does a small curtsy, as does Woven, and then I'm swept down the steps into the waiting car.


	66. The Night Brings Peace

** Terra Coppersmith **

"Will somebody tell me what the hell is going on?"

I throw myself down onto the plush couch in the living room of the train. I pull the diamonds from my neck and my ears and toss them both onto the table in the middle. Postumius danced from the car to the train, and he's dancing even now, a strange little jig all the way to his room. Damius looks at me, then looks at Shuttle and Woven, saying nothing.

"I don't see why we had to leave," Tiffany grumbles.

"Terra isn't well!" Lem says, looking at me with pity.

"Go to bed you three; we'll have enough to do tomorrow," Damius says. With a little more grumbling, he herds his stylists down the hall to their respective rooms, before going to his own.

"Let's take a walk," Woven says, gesturing for me to get up. The look in her eyes suggests I don't argue, so I don't. Ignoring the Capitol attendants, Shuttle, Woven, and I walk over to the front door and step out onto the train tracks. We carry on down the line maybe twenty feet, then stop and begin to talk quietly amongst ourselves.

"What's going on? Why did we leave so suddenly?" I whisper to Shuttle, looking over to the brightly lit Capitol. Cars and people go by, oblivious to everything but themselves.

"They were taking notice of you, even though I hoped they wouldn't," Shuttle says stiffly.

"Like Lissi Hornfell? Why did we leave so suddenly after I met her?"

"She collects victors, you heard her. She sponsors the tributes she finds the most attractive, and then she brings them in to her parties and hands them around like party favors to her guests. I can name dozens of tributes who have fallen prey to her. She sponsored you, the pretty girl from 1, and Calypso this year."

Shuttle looks at me hard. "I won't let what happened to me and the others happen to you. I won't. So I'm not going to let you be a mentor; they've got me and Woven and Woof, we can manage. I want you to stay put in District 8 with your sister, safe."

I look out over the city, unsure what to say. "Can they make me be a mentor?"

"We'll delay it. Hide you from the public eye until they forget about you."

"You and Fletcher had quite a few sponsors this year following your love story. You were one of the more popular tributes in the Capitol this year," Woven says.

"So it'll be harder for me to fade into obscurity," I say, biting my nails. My prep team will be upset with me, but I don't care.

"We'll manage. You have your sob story about being an orphan and looking after your sister. With a little luck, it'll buy you some time," Woven whispers. What exactly have they gone through, my two mentors? From the fierceness in their eyes I can tell it's nothing good; I have some ideas but I really don't want to know.

"So why did we leave?" I ask again.

"The predators were coming for you; I could have named twenty of those 'sponsors' who were lurking around, waiting for me to leave you alone," Shuttle says. "That's what they do; they get the victor alone, and then they proposition her. If she doesn't comply, they threaten her."

"They threatened you, didn't they," I say. It's a fact, not a question. Shuttle's eyes shut off temporarily.

"I won't let that happen to you. It was time to go before anything happened. I sent all the necessary gifts and thank you notes to the President ahead of time, because we were at his house."

Shuttle leans in and whispers, "He's not above threatening victors himself."

"I figured," I say.

"They'll be getting suspicious if we stay out here too long," Woven whispers to both of us. "Back to the train."

The cold night air bites at my cheeks as we walk back to the open door; I fight down a flashback, rubbing the cold from my face. Shuttle holds my arm more gently than she had earlier.

"Are you alright?"

I nod. "I don't like the cold; it gives me flashbacks."

Shuttle smiles grimly. "That's me with water," she says, and I want to ask her what she means, but then we're at the door and I don't get a chance.

I've curled up in a soft nightgown and a plush white robe on my even softer bed. The evening dress I wore tonight is folded neatly and placed on a chair in the corner of the room. I don't know where everyone else is, but I know they're safe. As safe as you can be when you're a victor.

I'll be home tomorrow; back home with Iry and Deecey, and then I can move forward with life. If Shuttle and Woven can really make it so that I don't have to be a mentor, then I have a chance to regain something of a normal life.

And I can forget everything that's happened.

I pull the covers over my head, thinking about everything that's happened since I left on the Victory Tour; everyone I've met, everywhere I've seen. Mags, Beetee, Silver, the Capitol guests at the party tonight. Aero, whoever he is. Lissi Hornfell who collects people like me. Last year I never would have dreamt I would be here; I thought I would always live on Engineering Road, working in the factories.

I think of my fellow tributes, now buried in their own districts, a simple headstone above their graves. I think of both the ones I knew and the ones I didn't; Calypso with her shiny hair, the little twelve-year-old from 9, the brother and sister from 6. The Career girl from 2 with the long blonde hair. All gone, remembered only in memories and on the tapes of the Games, which I will never watch.

I think of them, and I let them go. I can't hold onto them anymore. Quietly, the tears come, sliding onto my pillow and making it damp. For the first time since I was reaped, I feel at peace, and I don't know exactly why. Maybe it's the chance at normalcy.

Rubbing the tears from my cheeks, I try to forget what's happened to me, if only just for tonight. I'm so tired after today, and after the past few weeks. I reach up and turn out the lights, plunging the room into darkness, save for the lights from the Capitol that dot the floor. The covers are warm and the bed is soft, and I love the peace they bring.

Drifting off to sleep, my thoughts turn instead to white flowers, a garland around my head, and the boy who loved me enough to die for me.


	67. Epilogue

** Terra Coppersmith **

I shield my eyes from the sun as I watch the train pull away from District 8, taking my mentors and this year's tributes with it. It's thanks to Shuttle and Woven that I'm not on it as well.

Iry tugs my hand and I turn away from the vanishing silver train, looking at my little sister instead.

"How have I not noticed how much you've grown?" I say; she comes up to my shoulders now. She grins, her braids bouncing as she jumps up and down.

"I'll be as tall as you soon, you'll see," she says.

"I don't doubt it. Come on, we have some free time; what do you want to do?"

"Terra!" she says, grinning. "We have all the free time! School's out and we don't have to work!"

"That's true, and the Games don't start for a few more days, so we don't have to watch that tonight," I say.

"We don't have to, but we will; we have to watch Jessa and Terron," Iry says, suddenly worried.

"We'll cheer them on, and we'll even put some money into the sponsor's donation plate, how does that sound?"

"It's perfect," Iry says, brightening immediately. Nothing keeps her down for long, and that's just one of the things I love about her. How can my little sister be nine already? She's growing up so fast.

"So, again, what do you want to do?"

Iry looks up at me, perfectly serious. "Let's visit Mumma and Papa."

"Okay."

The factories have a day off today, because it was reaping day. I didn't have to worry too much, since I am no longer eligible, of course, and Iry is too young. I only had to worry about Deecey, and she came out unscathed. Iry and I are going to a celebration dinner at Deecey's house tonight, but until then it's just her and me. I hold her hand in mine as we walk, and I barely even notice the missing finger on my right hand as I do so.

People don't look at us any different on the street, which is nice. Shuttle and Woven pulled some strings in the Capitol, convincing their sponsors that Iry needed me more than the Capitol did. So now I can just be Terra Coppersmith again, without the Victor title attached. At least for now.

The cemetery is on a hill, a rare sight in District 8. Instead of snow, the graves are covered in July flowers and vines; the tall grass is periodically cut back by an old man now retired from the factories. I see him sometimes when I come up here. He likes to wave to me, and I always wave back.

"There they are!" Iry says, pulling my hand over to the twin stone graves in the middle of the cemetery. With some of my winnings, I bought my parents proper headstones, and now they look as respectable in death as they did in life.

I pull a rose from a bush, handing it to Iry, then pluck one for myself. Solemnly, we lay the flowers at the base of the graves and stand back to read what they say.

_Maria Coppersmith_

_Beloved Mother_

_Murdo Coppersmith_

_Beloved Father_

"Do you think they're watching over us?" Iry asks in a small voice.

"I don't doubt it. They probably helped me come back," I say. We stand at the graves of our parents for a little longer, then Iry looks up at me, a smile quivering at the edges of her mouth.

"Can we go play hopscotch outside the house?" she asks.

"Let's go," I say, and she grins. On the way towards the gate, I pluck one last rose. "Go ahead without me, Iry. I'll be right there."

"Kay!"

As Iry runs down the hill, I go over to the stone grave covered in the lilies that I planted in April. I lay the rose down on the gravestone's top and step back a ways.

"I'm doing better, Fletcher," I say. "The flashbacks aren't as often now, but I think about you every day. Things are getting easier; my legs don't bother me as much as they used to. Shuttle and Woven have made it so I don't have to go to the Capitol as a mentor. I can just be me. And I'm getting happy, Fletcher," I say. I look for Iry and see her dancing down on the cobblestones below.

"I won," I whisper. "I won for both of us, Fletcher, just like I promised."

I smile down at my ally's grave, remembering only the good, sweet moments I had with him. I'm working on forgetting the others.

"I'll be back, don't worry. I have my whole life to visit you," I say. I leave Fletcher and the graveyard then, shutting the gate behind me as I go. The summer sun gives a gentle warmth to the day as I stand on the top of the hill, looking down over District 8.

The Games will never go away for me, I know that. I might be called to the Capitol next year, or the year after that. But for now, I am just me, Terra Coppersmith, age seventeen. And yes, I am the victor of the 36th Hunger Games. For this summer at least, I can just be a sister and a friend. I'm free.

"Terra!" Iry calls, hands on her hips at the bottom of the hill.

"Coming!" I call back, and then I go down the hill to join my sister.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to all who've read my story and decided to review! It's my favorite part of my day when I get a review from you, and I love hearing your thoughts on my work. It means the world to me. Stay safe and have a wonderful day.


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